Willy Wonka Meets the Health Inspector
by Raven Catz
Summary: A certain eccentric chocolatier gets a visit from the health inspector, but it's not what you think... Since I can't give this three categories, I will add 'comedy' up here.
1. Chapter 1

Willy Wonka Meets the Health inspector

A fic by Megan Gallagher

The sky was blue and cloudless above the small British town, but to the inhabitants of the great Wonka candy factory, it didn't particularly matter. Because, rain or shine, the factory churned out pound after pound of miraculous candy for the world to enjoy. On this particular day, however, one individual was not toiling away in the bowels of the factory, but was instead sitting on the front steps, staring blankly out at the front gates. For the first time in fifteen years, Willy Wonka had failed to convince the European Health Agency of the superfluity of inspecting his factory. There would be an inspector arriving that afternoon. He stared down at the pointed tips of his boots and sighed.

It was the first time in his entire life that it had ever occurred to him that maybe he couldn't just do whatever he wanted.

The door behind him clicked, and a few moments later, Charlie Bucket sat down beside Wonka, looking up at him in the way that had always inwardly surprised the candymaker. For Charlie was much more intelligent than he first looked.

"Mr. Wonka?"

"Go to school, Charlie."

His mood was terrible; there was no point in even wandering the rooms of his great creation. Worst of all, he dreaded the health inspector's arrival. A cold, middle aged, portly man with thick glasses and a skeptical frown, most likely. He could already see the look of disdain on this individual's face. How could he possibly explain Oompa Loompas, Wonkavision, and a magical, rocket powered glass elevator to someone like that? They would not see the genius, only the impossibility of his creations. And, worst of all, there was no way his brilliant mind could come up with, that would enable him to show this mysterious adversary how to believe in magic, and trust in him.

Finally, Charlie left the candymaker's side, opened the creaking silver gates, and departed for school. He looked back once at the desolate look on Wonka's face, as concerned as a child could be, and walked on. Wonka barely looked up.

Long hours passed. Three times, the Oompa Loompas attempted to coax him inside, even going so far as to threaten a strike and a move to Slugworth's Candy Company. But no one could budge him. Finally, a small figure appeared at the end of the long road, striding up toward the gates. Wonka stood, smoothed his long coat, and began what seemed to him the longest walk he had ever taken.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

Veronica Lightfoot pushed her black rimmed glasses up slightly on her nose as she gazed at the enormous central smokestack of the Wonka factory, spiraling up into the sky. She wrinkled her nose, looking at the smoke billowing from it, but as she inhaled, she was pleasantly surprised by the unmistakable scent of chocolate. The silver behemoth before her unnerved her slightly. She was the only woman at the local health inspector's agency, and as such, she always ended up with the oddest assignments. Inwardly, she was amused, thinking of her coworkers, the stiff, middle aged, portly men, attempting to hoof it through this monster. But at the sight of the figure striding toward the gates, all thought was banished. This was the great Willy Wonka himself, the same eccentric genius who dazzled her discerning palate every weekend when she visited her favorite corner store for the sole reason of obtaining even the tiniest square of his amazing chocolate. She smoothed her skirt and took a deep breath, wondering just what she was getting herself into. And, most importantly of all, she hoped dearly that she would not have to fail him.

She had already inwardly decided that she would do whatever was necessary to ensure a passing grade for the factory. But stories of mysterious creatures, unusual inventions, and a river made of chocolate unnerved her. How could she possibly deem anything like a chocolate river sanitary? But she had come to the great silver gates and could think of nothing else now. She must quell her anticipation now and make ready for the adventure so few had taken.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

Wonka had not looked up from the tips of his boots since he saw the figure approaching the gate. So his surprise at the figure before him now was apparent. She smiled at him for a moment, shyly, then banished her humanity and became the health inspector. He saw her assume the mask and his heart sank. He opened the gates and admitted her, distantly polite.

"Mr. Wonka." The woman said professionally, "My name is Veronica Lightfoot, and I will be conducting a search of your premises for any improper practices or unsanitary conditions. Do you understand that a failing grade does not necessarily mean a permanent shutdown of this facility?"

He did not answer, but instead looked at her expectantly.

"Mr. Wonka?"

"I'm sorry, that was a little unclear. Would you care to repeat that in English this time?"

She sighed, but before she could respond, she found the man before her giggling, apparently giddy at her frustration. This was going to be more difficult than she thought.

"I'm sorry. Please come in, make yourself comfortable. You'll be here awhile." He smiled then, and she couldn't help but be mystified by this highly unusual creature before her. He was almost childlike in a way, but she knew, he had to be more intelligent than he looked. He just had to be…

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

Upon entering the factory, he immediately slid the long black coat from his thin shoulders, pulled the pair of enormous sunglasses he wore from his face, and discarded both in the center of the entranceway… then cast a hasty look in the direction of his uninvited guest. Clearing his throat, he picked up his discarded articles and placed them carefully on a side table. He then offered to take Veronica's coat, and laid it too on the table with a nervous smile.

His eyes were deep blue, strikingly beautiful, and wore the expression of a deer in the headlights. It was making Veronica feel terrible. She adjusted her glasses again, a nervous gesture, and, without realizing it, her mask of professionalism slipped just slightly. It was then that those velvet blue eyes pierced her own, staring directly into her soul.

"We… should begin the inspection, Mr. Wonka."

"Indeed we should. Follow me." He wore an enigmatic smile, and Veronica knew that she had already failed her first task. In the presence of Willy Wonka, she simply could not remain impartial.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

Veronica Lightfoot had been five years old when Wonka opened his first candy shop. She had lived only two blocks away, in a little flat with her mother, and every weekend, she was allowed to run down to the store to buy one treat for the week. She had always gazed, mystified, at the men behind the counter, always wondering which one was Willy Wonka, the man behind all this wonderful candy. It took her nearly five years to get up the courage to ask. By that time, Wonka was preparing its move to the enormous factory a few miles away. So a ten year old Veronica shyly stepped up to the counter for what would be the last time, and asked one of the aging employees if she could be directed to Willy Wonka himself.

"Oh, Mr. Wonka never comes out here. He says he needs to be alone with the chocolate and away from the crowds…" Then the man picked up a chocolate bar and handed it to Veronica. "I'm sure, if you taste this, you'll know he's right."

Her heart had sunk a little that day, knowing that now she would never get to meet the great Willy Wonka. She walked home, miserably munching away at the chocolate, and knowing, inside, that the man at the counter had been right. Better to leave the enigmatic chocolatier to his chocolate…

Sixteen years later, she found herself arguing this same point to a group of forty year old men, all wearing white shirts, khaki pants, little black neckties, and thick, plastic rimmed glasses. Why inspect Wonka's factory? What was the point? He was so far ahead of anyone else, technologically, that there was no way to be fair to both him and the competition. But they had insisted she go, even gave her the choice between inspecting Wonka's factory, or the unemployment line. So she went. And now here she was, standing in the front foyer of Wonka's candy factory, in the presence of the man she had dreamed of meeting since she was five years old. It was funny; she had always imagined him as being much older, and perhaps a little less strange. But he couldn't really be more than… 10 or fifteen years older than she, and he definitely looked more youthful. Veronica thought of her own appearance, stiff, ordered, long brown hair locked tight in a bun, black cat-eye glasses perched on her nose, pressed white shirt, and knee-length khaki skirt, all topped off with a pair of flat-soled brown shoes, sensible, but with little pointed toes. She looked like the epitome of a governmental drone. What she wouldn't have given to look as fancy and comfortable as the candymaker, for despite the unusual, antiquated formality of his dress, he looked quite a bit more at ease. She also noted that all sense of apprehension had evaporated from his demeanor. He had seen her slip, and now he was as confident as she had ever seen a man be. She wished she could say the same for herself.

"Tell me, have you ever tried my chocolate?" Wonka asked, suddenly.

"Oh, yes! I… I mean… yes. I have." Veronica looked at her shoes.

"Oh good. Then you'll enjoy yourself!" He replied cheerfully, and directed her to the end of the hall. She noticed the ceiling descending lower and lower until the both of them were hunched in a tiny alcove. She stared incredulously at the door. It was roughly the size of Wonka's hat, how were they ever going to enter the room beyond? She looked up at the candymaker expectantly, hoping for an answer. But he simply stood, hunched over and leaning on his cane, looking back at her.

"Well?"

"Well what?" Veronica was rapidly growing exasperated again.

"Aren't you going to ask me why the door's so small?"

"Fine, I'll bite. Why is the door so small, Mr. Wonka?" She asked dryly.

"To keep all the great big chocolaty flavors inside!" He replied cheerfully. And then he proceeded to push the entire back wall open, and what met Veronica's eyes next was paradise.


	2. Chapter 2

He watched her step into the room, clipboard and pen in her hands utterly forgotten. She stared around her at the world he had created, and inside, he was very pleased that she liked it. It struck him then that, for the first time in perhaps his entire life, he wasn't thinking about chocolate. He wasn't thinking about how much Veronica would like his chocolate. He wasn't even thinking about how impressed she was with the spectacle surrounding her. He was thinking about how pretty she now looked, in the proper environment. She had pulled off her glasses and stared in wonderment at the trees, the river, everything. And he was staring, almost absentmindedly, at her. She had storm-grey eyes, hidden behind those glasses, but now they looked as if they were flashing a bright ice-blue. And there was an almost childlike look of wonder on her face, as if she had belonged here all the time, but was only now discovering it. She turned back to him then, with an almost nostalgic sigh.

"Oh my…"

And she could see now, too. She saw the look of absentminded enchantment on the candymaker's face, and knew why Wonka's chocolates were the best in the world. He was utterly and completely in love with the world that he had created, and every time he looked on it, he was seeing something new. And it occurred to her, quite suddenly, that the something new he was seeing this time… was her. She inhaled sharply, attempting to force herself back into reality, but the fact of the matter was that, now, this was reality. This place, this dream that the both of them had wandered into, perhaps intentionally, was the only reality that mattered now.

"Is… is everything here..?" she couldn't finish her sentence. The prospect that everything in this entire room might be…

"Everything in this room is eatable… Even the grass." He gestured with his cane at the long green grass. But he did not look down at it; rather his eyes remained almost questioningly on her face.

"But… that's hardly sanitary, Mr. Wonka." Veronica said, in only a shadow of her initial stiffness.

"It is when no one comes in or out of the factory, which is, in itself, an extremely clean and efficient environment. The only thing that is unsanitary is the soles of your shoes." He said matter-of-factly. Veronica silenced immediately. He certainly wasn't what she had expected. Of course, the thought occurred to her that she liked it better this way.

"Well, don't just stand there. Enjoy yourself!" He said, shooing her away.

She wandered away, toward a tree bearing gigantic jellied fruits. She was just about to pick one from the long, delicate branches, but stopped herself, straightening up.

"Mr. Wonka, I am not here to sample your sugared delights. I can do that at any corner store in the world these days. I am here to ensure that you are operating this facility under safe conditions. Now, this is a big place, and don't pretend you weren't trying to stall me."

The chocolatier looked offended. He approached the tree and plucked the fruit she had been reaching for. Then he turned hurt, puppy-dog eyes on her face.

"You don't like my candy?"

"Of course I do."

"Then what's stopping you?" He asked with a grin.

"I… have a job to do." She said with a resigned sigh. "And if I don't do it, I'll be fired."

"Then you can come and live here and work for me."

Veronica looked shocked.

"It isn't that simple. I don't know the first thing about making candy, and another thing; I haven't seen hide nor hair of any other workers here."

"That's where you're wrong, Veronica." He said, pushing the treat into her hands. "It's always that simple."

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

Veronica was so stunned at these words that she couldn't reply. She simply nibbled at the fruit in her hand, and was stunned at its flavor. It didn't bear the artificial taste of jellied fruit slices sold in most candy stores, but instead tasted as if a real piece of fruit had been somehow grown, already coated in sugar crystals. She closed her eyes and swayed on the spot. And when she opened them again, she found Wonka standing very close. He smiled the same enigmatic smile as earlier, and gestured toward the river of chocolate, winding its way through the landscape. She followed him, wondering what was to come next.

"My factory is the only one in the world to mix its chocolate by waterfall. It churns it up. Makes it light…" He was continuing his presentation as if none of the past several minutes had even happened. Veronica wondered inwardly if it really had. She was suddenly aware that she had stopped listening to what he was saying. But it didn't seem to matter. He spoke on with an air that suggested that what he was saying was common sense, and that she didn't really need to listen anyway. He spoke as if she had already known what he was saying. It almost unnerved her to realize that Wonka had had her pegged from the moment he admitted her through the front gates. That somehow, in that brief introduction, he had read her entire soul. And with a stab of regret, she realized that she had barely paid him attention at that moment, and the secrets of his soul were lost to her forever. All because she had tried to be a grown-up, and do her duty, instead of letting the ten year old girl inside rejoice at the long awaited meeting of the man of her dreams. She was suddenly aware that he had stopped speaking.

"You weren't listening to a word I said, were you?" He asked, astutely.

"I'm sorry…"

"What I say isn't as important as what you feel." He added, voice pitched lower than usual. Then:

"Speaking of feeling… did you know that chocolate contains a chemical that releases endorphins? Makes you feel like you're in love."

"I don't think I'm going to need chocolate for that…" Veronica muttered, looking away toward a clump of bushes, all sprouting small, white marshmallow flowers.

"I'm sorry, that was a little mumbled, what did you say?" The candymaker asked, with an air that suggested he knew exactly what she had said.

"…Fascinating. I said that was fascinating." Veronica said quickly, looking back into his alarmingly sharp eyes.

"Oh, thank you!" He grinned, but Veronica knew he could detect a lie at twenty paces, and was now just playing her game.

He wandered away a bit, down the bank of the river, leaving Veronica behind, and whistled loudly. It wasn't long before Veronica saw the boat gliding gracefully up to meet them. It was spun sugar and looked somewhat like a seahorse, and it was piloted by several tiny, identical men. She was fascinated.

"I see you've noticed the Oompa Loompas." Wonka said with a smile. "Aren't they great? They are the usual workers here, and boy, can they make chocolate! The best part of all, is that they only require pay in chocolate. And they're wonderful to talk to…" He wandered off on a meandering speech about the Oompa Loompas, but Veronica had stopped listening again. He seemed to notice much quicker this time, for he stopped in midsentence, and offered her his arm.

"Well, hopefully this boat will hold your short attention span longer than I can. Boy, is it a rush!" Veronica turned a deep shade of pink, but Wonka didn't notice. He helped her into the boat, and then stepped in himself, waving it onward.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka the amazing Chocolatier..._

Somewhere midway through the wild ride, Veronica's hair had fallen out of its tight bun. Now, soft brown waves were curling around her face, and falling down her shoulders. She hated to say it, but she liked it much better that way.

"Well, you look like you had fun!" Wonka said brightly, assisting her out of the boat and onto the dock of one of the many rooms.

"That was a rush, to be sure…" She said breathlessly, and laughed, looking back at the boat, now sitting serenely in the river.

"Oh good! Now, this is one of the very most important rooms in the entire factory. This is the inventing room…"

Veronica was led from one strange machine to the next, shown creations that would have boggled the minds of her coworkers, all the while mystified by what seemed now to be a ten-year-old Willy Wonka, bouncing from invention to invention, stumbling through explanations, and fluttering around Veronica like a large purple butterfly, waiting anxiously for her opinion. On her clipboard, the pen stood poised, ready to make its verdict, but how could she possibly judge these… things… when not even their maker truly knew how they worked? Not to mention… when these things didn't work… Veronica shivered, hoping never to see 'hair toffee' on her corner store shelves.

"Do you like it?"

"…What?" Veronica was caught off guard.

"Do you like it? I mean, I know you haven't seen ALL of it, but..?"

"Yes, I'm… enchanted. But I hardly see how that matters."

"If you like it, I can stay open… and they won't bother me anymore?" It didn't sound like a question, but Veronica had the distinct impression that it was. She sighed.

"No, Mr. Wonka. If… somehow… I can determine that this place is safe for its workers, and that you aren't posing a threat to the consumer's health, then you can stay open. And I can't guarantee the agency won't bother you again. I'm sorry Mr. Wonka, but it isn't that simple."

He didn't correct her this time, but rather quietly directed her back to the docks for a decidedly more serene and almost depressing boat trip to another room. The door bore no label, and she decided by the looks of things, that Wonka rarely came to this particular room. He pushed open the creaking door silently and entered, not waiting or holding the door open for Veronica. She followed him sheepishly and inhaled sharply. She was standing in what could have been a vineyard in the south of France, but instead of grapevines, hundreds of tended bushes bearing chocolate roses stood in rows.

"This is where we produce all the candy for Valentine 's Day. I never liked it in here much, but there was a demand, so I fulfilled my position. The Oompa Loompas look after it for me. I never did like Valentine's day much." He said rather tonelessly. Moments later he slumped onto a small bench set under an archway amongst the rows of shrubs. Veronica joined him, but it was a long time before he looked up at her.

"How did you become a health inspector?"

"I… just sort of fell into it. There isn't much to do around this town."

"Do you love your job?"

"To tell the truth, I hate it. I wish I wasn't the only woman, and I wish I didn't have to see the looks on the faces of hardworking people who just let a few things slip through the cracks. How did you… learn to make magic?" She asked quietly.

"It isn't that simple." He snapped. Veronica looked taken aback.

"Would you rather I leave?"

"You have a job to do. I don't want to let you get fired…"

"Mr. Wonka, I will walk through those doors right now and go stand in the unemployment line tonight, if you don't sincerely tell me what I did to put you in such a state." She replied stoutly.

It was a long time before he answered.

"…How can you say that the world isn't simple, if life isn't simple when you're constantly complicating it, and not just going with what you feel?"

She didn't have an answer. But it didn't matter. At length he looked to her for a reply, and she said the first thing she could think of.

"And what do you feel, Mr. Wonka? Do you? Or do you hide it behind all these elaborate displays and a shallow satisfaction in the fact that what you are doing makes other people happy?" She snorted. "No one can be so completely obsessed with chocolate."

The two of them sat for a long time, back to back, chins thrust out like stubborn children, not saying a word. And then he heard her dissolve behind him. He felt it, as she slumped on the bench, giving in and beginning to cry. And he fought the impulse to move away, and turned to look at her.

"Why are you crying?"

"Because I'm frustrated, that's why." She said thickly.

"But why?"

"I've loved your candy since I was five years old." She said quietly. "I would run down to your store every week to buy a chocolate bar, and I always hoped that I'd get to see you. And in all these years I never did. But I never stopped hoping that maybe, one day… And today's the day, but now I have a job to do and I can't even let that part of me enjoy itself…" And she dissolved into sobs.

And something happened then that stunned the both of them. The great, recluse, eccentric Willy Wonka actually cared enough about another person to want to help them. Uncertainly, he slung an arm about her shoulders and leaned down beside her.

"You're overwatering my roses." He said simply. And the most miraculous thing occurred. Veronica burst out laughing. She looked up at him, eyeliner running down her cheeks.

"Thank you…" She said breathlessly.

"Well, I can't have you crying all over my candy, can I?" He said lightly, attempting to pretend that nothing had happened.

"You know, you aren't what I expected at all, Mr. Wonka." Veronica said, smiling waterily.

"I've been getting that a lot these days…" He replied. "We should continue, there's still a lot to cover."

"No, if you don't mind, I'd prefer to stay here awhile." Veronica sat up and looked around. "If this is the only chance I get… I want to make the most of it."

The pair sat in silence for awhile then, Veronica taking in the scenery, feeling the gentle breeze, hardly believing it to be artificial. Wonka watched her, a serene expression on his face, blue velvet eyes taking her in.

"Why is it you don't like this room, Mr. Wonka?" Veronica asked suddenly.

"Valentine's day… euch! Who wants to spend a whole day thinking about something you can never have?"

"Never have? Someone else's love?"

"It isn't worth it if it isn't perfect. Love without perfection is just delayed pain." Wonka replied, matter-of-factly. "Much better to drown yourself in the chocolate than feed it to someone else and perpetuate the deception."

"That isn't true! You can't find the perfect love for you if you don't try. And if you don't try, you'll only be alone and unfulfilled in your lifetime. Better to try, get hurt and know what to watch out for in the future than to never try at all and spend your whole life wondering if you were wrong!"

"What makes you try again when you get hurt?"

"What makes you try again when a candy doesn't turn out like you planned?"

"That's completely different!"

"No. It's exactly the same." Veronica knew she had outsmarted the candymaker this time. He stood, rigid amongst the chocolate rosebushes, attempting to think of a comeback, but nothing came. "What do you feel, Mr. Wonka?" She said at length.

He looked at her for a long time, apparently attempting to discern what trickery this was. Then, finally, a look of complete and utter seriousness fell over the chocolatier's face.

"Alone." Was all he said.


	3. Chapter 3

The rest of the tour was fairly unremarkable. Veronica was shown things that would boggle the minds of most men, scratching routinely at her checklist, and making notes here or there about anything special. Wonka had chosen to continue as if they had never even entered the room of roses, a childish light in his eye, a spring in his step, and a smile on his face. The fact was, he had become so used to forcing a smile, it didn't look forced anymore. Inwardly, Veronica was deeply worried about the candymaker. In one fell swoop, together, they had shattered his reality. Every wall he had built to guard against that one terrible truth lay broken. The present truth was that, for the rest of the day, he had been holding up remnants of that self imposed innocence, attempting to fool Veronica into believing that he was fine… perhaps to fool himself as well. But both of them knew, inside, that the façade had fooled no one. His most inward hope was that, once he was left alone, he could pull together what he had left and rebuild his walls. But even he gave himself more credit than that. He was too intelligent to believe he could just make it all go away.

To Veronica, it was a remarkable thing. She had seen, somewhere in that day, the boy Willy Wonka finally grow up. The child was gone, and there was nothing either of them could do. She hoped he could somehow use whatever it was he had gained from the experience to his advantage, but she knew he would need support for that. And that was something she wasn't sure that Wonka got on a regular basis. So when she was all but shooed from the factory, as the sun was setting on the little British town, she turned back to the chocolatier and looked him in the eye.

"I'm sorry for whatever damage I may have done today."

"You didn't do any damage. You behaved as well as Charlie did the day I gave him my factory."

"I didn't mean… I meant any damage I may have done to you."

"Nonsense…"

"It's not… nonsense…"

"I just need to be alone for awhile."

"And it's that simple?"

"It's always that simple." He said, rather less convincingly than the first time.

"I wish I could believe you… It was a pleasure to have met you, Mr. Wonka." And with that, Veronica turned on her heel and strode away, flat soled shoes clicking lightly on the cobbled stone street.

That night, Veronica had a dream. She saw herself, first entering the factory, seeing the chocolate river. She was with a young boy with shocking, blue velvet eyes that followed her wherever she went. She herself was still as she had been that day, proper, and stiff, hair tightly up. But her glasses were in her hand. Next, she saw herself in the inventing room. Her hair wasn't now falling in soft curls as it had been in reality, but instead remained in its bun, and there was a streak of grey running along it, from her left temple. The young boy was still there, and as he spoke to her, reliving the conversations of earlier, she saw herself grow a little younger too. By now they were in the room of roses, and the boy was rapidly growing older as they sat, back to back, on the bench. She, conversely, was de-aging, until both looked about sixteen. The teenage Veronica burst into tears, and the boy with the striking blue eyes and now rebelliously long hair turned to comfort her. And together, in a graceful dream-dance, the both of them grew into what they should be as the final conversation in amongst the roses took place. He had grown up, and she… returned to normal? She woke and sat bolt upright in bed.

"I can't pretend that what happened yesterday didn't affect me too…" She thought.

She knew exactly what she had to do.


	4. Chapter 4

It was an ambitious plan, but Veronica knew it had to work. She called in almost convincingly sick to work, and managed to get the day off. Then she strode to her closet and whipped open the doors… only to be met by a wall of khaki skirts and bland, well starched shirts. She sighed. Perhaps it would be more work than she had expected…

An hour later, she had totaled her bedroom, drawers flung on the bed, their contents appearing to have exploded from them. A pair of silk stockings lay, draped limply over a lampshade, and pairs of shoes Veronica hadn't seen since high school littered the floor, mismatched and hopelessly searching for their mates. Veronica had left the room in this state and rushed from the house, walking as quickly as a pair of black stiletto heels would allow. She was furiously blinking away the tears that her seldom-used contact lenses often created, hoping against hope that her mascara wouldn't run. Finally, the steely gates loomed before her eyes and she stood outside them and resolutely knocked.

A small boy, no more than ten or eleven, opened the doors, ran up to the gates, and asked what business she was on.

"I am here to see Mr. Wonka." Was all she said.

"I'm sorry then, Miss." Said the boy. "Mr. Wonka isn't feeling well. And he's definitely not having guests."

"Well then you may tell Mr. Wonka that I am prepared to stand here all day in shoes with higher heels than even he wears, and if he doesn't wish to inflict so much pain on one individual, he would do well to come to these gates immediately and let me in before I make a scene." Veronica said stoutly.

"Yes, Miss." Said the boy, walking away.

Veronica stood at the gates for nearly a half hour before the doors to the factory creaked open again. It was not Wonka, but the boy.

"Mr. Wonka says to tell you that you may come in and wait for him in the room of roses. He will be with you shortly."

"I don't think so, young man. Unless he comes personally to collect me, I shall stay right here. And you may want to tell him that I think a blister is developing on my left foot. I haven't worn these shoes since… the junior prom."

"Yes miss." Sighed Charlie. He went in again and shortly after, Willy Wonka appeared, leaning slightly on his cane as he walked, not looking at the gates.

"You were waiting at the door the whole time, weren't you?" Veronica asked.

"As a matter of fact I—" Wonka stopped dead in his tracks, looking up at Veronica. She was standing there in the stiletto heels, a tiny black skirt, and a blue shirt with the three top buttons undone. Her hair was curling softly around her face and cascading down her shoulders, and she looked as if she had been preparing all day for a very romantic evening.

"You're HOT!" Was all the chocolatier could muster.

"Oh, thank you, do you really think so?" Veronica said pettily, twirling an auburn curl around her finger. "Well, get over it. We have business to discuss." And with that, she pushed the gate open, strutted inside, slid a hand up the candymaker's shoulder, and guided him, backwards and staring at her all the way, in through the factory doors.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

It wasn't long before Veronica was sitting on the bench in the room of roses again, this time facing a very different Willy Wonka.

"Now that I have your attention…"

"Boy, do you!"

"I would appreciate it if you didn't interrupt at the moment, Mr. Wonka. As I say, I am a very busy girl, and I have business to discuss." Veronica said dryly. "Now, I am no psychologist, but it appears to me that you have some serious issues. Mostly, I want to talk about those ever present defense mechanisms of yours. I'm sorry, but they have to go."

"Geez, you sure are a downer…" Wonka replied.

"I told you not to interrupt. How about this… If you're a good boy and listen to me and try to be open to my suggestions… maybe, just maybe, you'll get a reward. Ok?"

Wonka nodded fervently.

"Good. Now, I suppose it would be a bit forward of me, practically a perfect stranger, to start prying into your past, but… I need to know how it is you ended up building all these walls around yourself. And… by walls I don't mean the physical ones… obviously you built them too… but I'm referring to the psychological walls. Could you maybe tell me about your childhood?"

"I don't wanna get into that…" He replied uneasily.

"Ok… well then, could you tell me why you feel so isolated? Were you teased as a child?"

At this suggestion, the chocolatier made a face Veronica clearly interpreted as extremely uncomfortable with the situation. She sighed and tried a new tack.

"When I was 12, I got these horrible glasses, truly horrible. And all the kids at school used to tease me about them. But instead of being upset and self conscious, I told myself that I was more than just those little bits of glass resting on my nose and that friends and glasses come and go, but I would always be me."

"And your point is..?"

"Oh come now, you're much more astute than that. You tell me my point."

"You're trying to tell me that I shouldn't be so closed off to other people, and that I should just open up and not be afraid to be who I really am. Honestly, my real therapist has been telling me that for years!"

"Then why don't you just listen? It's excellent advice."

"Until you came… this is who I was."

"But they were walls even then."

"Yes, but I could lie to myself and tell myself that it was alright that I had them."

"And after yesterday… I made you confront the truth and…"

"I can't lie to myself anymore…"

"It's that simple…" Veronica mused. "I suppose you taught me something too. And that's the other thing I came to tell you. I wanted to thank you for teaching me that the world doesn't have to be so complicated, and that I don't have to be so… grown up. I guess maybe that was the problem with both of us? I was too grown up and you… just weren't there yet. And I think maybe now we're on an even playing field… Anyway, I wanted to say thank you…" And she reached out to touch his face, but before she got there, he flinched and pulled away.

"Oh dear… perhaps we're leaving something for another day?" She asked. "Listen, I'm not going anywhere. You've got me for good now, whether you like it or not. And I won't do anything intentionally to hurt you, so trust me, and maybe together we'll help you get it together before the candy suffers… You don't want any disappointed fans do you?" And she reached out and took one of his purple-gloved hands, held it for a moment, and then laid it against her own cheek and closed her eyes. And he didn't pull away.


	5. Chapter 5

Several days later, Wonka found himself back on his 'real' therapist's couch. Frank, the Oompa Loompa sat with pen and paper in hand as his boss, friend, and client rattled off the week's activities… and mused what had happened to him.

"I can't explain it… I mean… I thought I had trouble those weeks before Charlie and his family came to live here… Boy was that a walk in the park compared to this! First of all, the more I walk through this place, the more I realize that I'm completely alone. Sure, Charlie and his family keep me company some times, and yeah, the Oompa Loompas are always good for a laugh, but then I pass the rooms in the back hall, the hall of holidays… All the ones with the roses and the mushy Valentine's Day…stuff… and all the other rooms… Christmas, Secretary's Appreciation Day… and I realize that I can't remember a time in my life that I've ever spent a holiday with someone. Sure, I spent Christmas Day with Charlie and his family… but before that I always worked through the holidays…"

Frank nodded, silently making notes and peering over his glasses at the chocolatier.

"And then there's Veronica…" Wonka shivered. "I never knew anything could be better than chocolate… But she touched my hand and… it was like chocolate didn't even exist."

Frank was still nodding, still scratching notes onto his paper, still peering over the rims of his glasses, and still conspicuously silent.

"I've never felt like this in my whole life! Right after she leaves, I feel like I could rush into the inventing room and come out with the best candy the world has ever tasted, but by the time I get there, the only thing I can think about is when she first saw the river… And nothing gets done. And the longer she's gone, the worse I feel until there's no point in even trying to brainstorm new ideas. And now I'm leaving it up to Charlie, but he's barely been here a year and…" Wonka sighed. "I just… I don't know what to do… I feel like I've been abandoned."

Frank looked up from his nodding and scribbling. Wonka was looking over at him uneasily.

"Is that a… tic tac toe board? You're not helping me at all! You weren't even listening! And here I thought you helped me so much during my first crisis…" The candymaker stood and prepared to leave.

"Isn't there anyone here who can help me?"

He didn't notice that Charlie Bucket was peering around the door at them. Nor did he know that the boy had heard almost the entire confession. But before he had left the room, Charlie took off running, and didn't stop until he was pushing open the factory gates. If the great Willy Wonka was in such a state, he would definitely need a little help from his friends.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

"Please, Miss Veronica. Mr. Wonka needs help. You have to come to the factory and help him think up a new kind of candy. If you don't…" The boy was looking with large, pleading blue eyes at Veronica.  
"But I don't know the first thing about candy… except that his is magical."

"Then you can help us!"

"Charlie… I don't know anything about making candy… It's not that…" But she stopped midsentence and looked at the boy, who now seemed near tears. "Alright, I'll come."

"You might want to pack, Miss Veronica. If you're headed for a brainstorm session with Mr. Wonka, you're likely to be there for awhile."

"…How long?"

"I'd expect about a week… you can have supper with our family, Miss Veronica. Mr. Wonka usually does. But he's been acting so strange lately… for him, that is."

"How do you mean, strange?"

"Well, he walks the factory every day, like usual. But now he spends a lot more time in the hall of holidays… And he talks about you a lot… not to me or my family, but to the Oompa Loompas. And he hasn't had a new idea in over a week." Charlie said soberly. Veronica was moved by what the boy before her had said.

"Well then, I must come right away and help him. We can't have the most famous chocolatier in the world moping about and not inventing new candy now can we?" And then she sighed. "Funny, and I thought that a visit from the health inspector would help him stay in business longer… Well… I won't be a health inspector any more by the end of this week now, will I?"

"I'm sorry Miss Veronica. But I wouldn't ask unless I thought it was important. And…" Charlie dropped off suddenly.

"And what, Charlie?"

"I think he's in love… with something other than chocolate, I mean…" The boy looked very seriously at Veronica now. "I think he's in love with you, Miss Veronica."

Veronica froze, looking down at Charlie, sincere blue eyes meeting her own worried grey ones.

"That's why I came here. If you can help him with the chocolate, then everything can go back to how it used to be. If you can't… no one can."

"Nothing's impossible, Charlie." Veronica said suddenly. "I'm sure we'll find a way to help Mr. Wonka. And I promise I'll do my best."

"Thank you, Miss Veronica. I expect you want to get ready now. May I ask you to be there first thing in the morning?"

"Of course Charlie."

And with that, the young boy left Veronica. She looked around her room with a sigh. She didn't know anything about candy. All she knew was that now she had to try. She sighed. Besides that, by the end of the week she would be unemployed. Well, maybe Wonka would do good on his promise and let her stay… if she was helpful and didn't just get in the way. She seemed to be doing a lot of that, lately.

She dragged out a small suitcase and began throwing things into it. The sensible flat shoes, in case they ended up wandering the factory, the black stiletto heels if she needed to exert her authority, as it were, and keep him on task. Finally, she closed the bag with a snap and went to bed, wondering sincerely what the next day would bring. Things were unpredictable and strange enough in the Wonka factory on a good day. But now things were rushing towards disaster and Veronica wondered how she could possibly keep her head and help.


	6. Chapter 6

(A.N. I just want to say a big THANK YOU! to everyone who has read and reviewed this story so far. You have motivated me to write every night, and without you, some of the big scenes coming up never could have taken place. Also, because I never said it; none of the characters belong to me, except Veronica, and I am only playing with them for the time being. )

Veronica's night was littered with dreams. Some were nightmarish interpretations of the harm she could possibly still inflict on Willy Wonka's once perfect world, others were troubled nonsense. And one dream, clear and still in her mind, one dream that was nearly forgotten by morning, was completely benign. She saw reflected in the pool of her subconscious a much younger Wonka. Mentally, he was still eccentric, still strange and socially awkward, Veronica already knew. But outside, physically, he was much younger. He was sitting completely alone at a long black table, constructed completely of black licorice. There were chairs all along its length and Veronica knew that the Wonka candy company must surely have once had a board of directors that met here. The table was littered with newspapers, and there was one lonely, discarded looking graph sitting on an easel beside him. Veronica floated, present but undetected by the forlorn looking boy, to look at the headlines. It became very clear to her that she was looking at a man who hadn't existed now for nearly fifteen years. He had died the day he closed the factory gates. And out of his ashes had sprung the shell of a man that she knew. Still very sad and very alone on the inside, but on the outside, nothing could be sunnier. Veronica realized that she was watching Willy Wonka, whole and as he had once been, die. And he was no older than she was now. She watched as he reached out a bare hand, limply snatch up one of the newspapers, and fling it lifelessly into the fireplace that loomed behind the head seat. Then he sat back down, and laid his head mutely on the table, slowly, deliberately, as if there was nothing left for him to do. He was completely alone in the big factory, aside from the ghost of Veronica, watching him. Several minutes passed, until Veronica was no longer completely sure this was a dream, for nothing had happened. But then the lonely young man before her reached out and grabbed her sharply by the wrist. He stared her in the eye for what seemed like an eternity to Veronica, his eyes still beautifully velvet blue, but hollow, empty, with dark circles ringing them, blatant shadows of death on his stark, pale face. It was clear he hadn't slept in weeks. And then something compelled her to speak. She didn't know quite what it was, but something so moved her about the pitiable form hunched before her, that she had to say something.

"You have to go on, Will." She said, but neither the voice nor the words were hers. "They still love you, and they always will. Even when that day comes when you feel you are alone completely, I will be here, and I will never go away, and you will always look to me to continue."

Wonka nodded, saying nothing, and then dropped her hand and fell into a quiet sleep, all alone at the table. And as Veronica walked away, just before she awoke, she passed through a long hall of mirrors, the passage between the directors' room and the rest of the factory, and she saw herself reflected in those mirrors, not Veronica Lightfoot, but a beautiful young girl with soft brown curls that flowed in a breeze she could not feel, and dressed in a long gown, black and silver, with silver vines trailing down her arms from her shoulders to the wrists. Her neck was encased in silver vines, and they trailed up into her hair. All of it was spun sugar. And, though she could not know why she knew it, she recognized the reflection. She was the Queen of the Sugar Plum Faeries, the closest thing Willy Wonka had ever had to a god.

Veronica woke, sweating and trembling, sitting bolt upright in bed. But some force lulled her back to sleep before she could even comprehend what she had dreamed, and by morning, she could remember very little except the tired look in the candymaker's eyes.


	7. Chapter 7

At seven o'clock sharp, Veronica arrived at the front gate of the Wonka candy factory, still reeling from her dreams, lugging her suitcase along. The gates opened without anyone ever coming to them, and she walked inside uncertainly. She managed to arrive at the massive front doors, suitcase clunking against each stair, and knocked. Two Oompa Loompas answered the door, struggled with her suitcase for a few moments, rather comically, in Veronica's estimation, before several more of the little men arrived and, together, they lugged her bag away, beckoning for Veronica to follow. They took her to a room at the end of a long, mirrored hall. Inside the room, a great, dusty and decrepit black licorice table, and several corresponding, spindly black licorice chairs stood shoved haphazardly against a wall. A rather uncomfortable looking bed had been set up here hurriedly, Veronica assumed at Charlie's orders. The bed stood beside an enormous fireplace, the ashes in the grate mingled with dust. The room was very familiar to Veronica for some reason, but she couldn't put her finger on it. Everything in the room, save for the bed, was covered in a film of dust that suggested a: that Mr. Wonka had not been here in a very long time, and b: that her arrival was, for the most part, very hurried and very secret. The room was actually quite frightening to Veronica, but she sat down on the bed, which creaked and shifted unpleasantly, and allowed the Oompa Loompas to leave her. It wasn't long before Charlie came in.

"I'm sorry, but this was the only room I could find that didn't seem to have another use."

"It's fine, Charlie." Veronica lied, smiling.

"Mr. Wonka is still asleep. I'm worried about him, Miss Veronica. He never sleeps this late. He's always at breakfast, but now it's time for me to leave for school, and he's still asleep. The Oompa Loompas won't wake him… they seem to think it's bad luck to wake a person when he's sleeping."

"Poppycock. I'll wake him myself. Where does he sleep?"

"Try the great glass elevator. It has a button for every room." Was all Charlie could say.

"Well, run off to school then. I'll give Mr. Wonka the shock of his life." Veronica grinned devilishly. Charlie laughed out loud before leaving hurriedly, his bookbag already slung over one shoulder.

Veronica was left to find the great glass elevator. She wandered down the mirrored hall and it wasn't long before she was lost. She managed to find her way into Wonka's paradise twice, stopping for one of those delicious candied fruits on her way out. But after nearly twenty minutes, she was no closer to finding the elevator than she was to figuring out how to call an Oompa Loompa and ask. Finally, she ran into a woman with short, dark brown hair and rather bad teeth.

"Excuse me, but can you tell me where the elevator is?" Veronica asked breathlessly.

"Of course." Said the woman. "You must be Veronica. Wonderful to meet you. See those doors at the end of the hall?" She pointed. "Go through those doors, then make a left. And be careful. Make sure the doors have opened all the way before you step inside. My husband got a nasty bump on his head the first time he tried to use it himself…"

"Thank you." Veronica said, and hurried off.

Five minutes later, she found herself screaming at the top of her lungs as the great glass elevator rocketed through its complicated maze of cables, searching for its creator's room. As it shuddered to a halt, Veronica practically crawled from the elevator, knees like jelly. She found herself in a very different room than the rest of the factory. It was very small and very dark, and quite cold, compared to the other rooms. Her eyes scanned the room, adjusting to the darkness, and then she saw him. He was curled on a tiny bed in the corner, one that looked even more uncomfortable than the one Charlie had found for her. Conversely, he was curled under a thick purple velvet comforter. His hat rested on the bedpost, and a pair of purple gloves was laid over the headboard. Veronica gazed on this most unusual arrangement for a moment, then walked up to the bed, crouched down, and stared into the chocolatier's closed and sleeping eyes. Moments later, as if he knew he were being watched, his eyes flew open on the darkness, and he gasped and flew off the other side of the bed like a frightened cat.

"Morning, Mr. Wonka." Veronica said brightly, standing up.

"Don't you know it's bad luck to wake a person when he's sleeping?" Wonka gasped, clutching at his chest, thin frame heaving.

"Aren't you going to ask me why I'm here?"

Wonka opened his mouth to reply, but Veronica didn't give him the chance.

"Charlie and I thought it would be a good idea if I hung around for awhile and tried to give your lagging business a jump start. I hear you've been hitting the doldrums this last week or so. So… here I am! What are you going to do with me?" This last sentence escaped Veronica before she realized it, and in hindsight seemed a bit inappropriate seeing as she was, in fact, standing in the middle of the candymaker's bedroom, but this fact slipped clear over Wonka's head as he pulled on his gloves and adjusted his hat, eyes still as wide as dinner plates, and breath still coming in gasps.

"Well… ummm… you can go somewhere else and keep yourself busy. Obviously, I need to dress." Wonka said sharply. Veronica realized for the first time that she had never seen him in anything other than the wine colored coat and heeled boots. She looked at him a moment, realizing that his pajamas consisted of a rather hideous purple paisley material. She shivered and allowed him to shoo her out. It wasn't long before he joined her, wearing his usual garb and appearing very much more collected.

"Well, if you're here to help me, the first thing you can do is help me put away some of Mrs. Bucket's delicious breakfast. I'm starving!" He said, considerably more brightly, and strode on toward the elevator. Veronica looked at the little glass box queasily for a moment, then took a deep breath and stepped inside.

Once again she found herself screaming at the top of her lungs, and rapidly growing hoarse. She was crumpled on the floor, clutching at Wonka's ankles, eyes squeezed as tightly shut as she could get them. The elevator zoomed through yet another maze of cables, high empty spaces, and tunnels so narrow it was doubtful the box could fit through them upon approach. Willy Wonka was, himself, standing as straight as a board, and barely even wavering as the elevator jumped from cable to cable, dropping over a hundred feet, then catching another cable and zooming straight back up again. Veronica was sliding across the floor, whimpering and holding onto the candymaker's ankles with a deathgrip. Finally, the ride ended, and Wonka looked down at Veronica, who had turned a slightly unattractive shade of green.  
"Wasn't that a rush?" He was on the verge of giggling again.

"Nooo…" Veronica moaned.

"No? Then you haven't had enough of a ride! We can do it again…"

"NO!" Veronica stood bolt upright and strode out of the elevator.

"Oh, well, you're no fun." Wonka pouted, following her.

The two made their way to the little house in the center of paradise. Wonka conducted Veronica inside with a slight flourish and introduced her to the rest of the family. He then proceeded to apologize for being so late to breakfast, and quite cheerfully offered to personally wash the dishes afterward as penance. Mrs. Bucket assured him that this was unnecessary and seated them at once.

"So what has you in such a good mood this morning, Mr. Wonka?" Mr. Bucket asked. He had already donned his work uniform and seemed to be on the way out the door.

"Well, everyone always says the best kind of prize is a surprise, and boy, did I get one this morning!"

The Buckets all looked knowingly at each other. This action escaped Wonka completely, but Veronica noticed, and turned a slight shade of pink, a definite improvement from the green of a few minutes ago.

"Aren't you going to eat? Dig in! I can't have you hungry and nibbling at my candy all day long!" Wonka said, between mouthfuls of eggs and potatoes. Veronica tucked into the food before her in earnest. It was definitely a better breakfast than she had had in years.

"This is wonderful, thank you." She smiled at Mrs. Bucket. "I'm afraid I can't even boil water without burning it."

"I'm glad you like it. You're welcome here any time."

Wonka had finished before Veronica had even started on her toast. It wasn't long before he was literally shooing her out the door. She drained a glass of orange juice, said a hurried thank you and goodbye to the Buckets, and followed the eccentric candyman, who had now left her behind.

"How are we going to get anything done if you don't move those feet? We have so much to do! Speaking of, you're very lucky to have found me this morning. I'm usually so busy inventing new things that I just fall asleep wherever I drop!"

Veronica knew the truth of the matter was that Wonka had been utterly unable to think up anything new in at least the past week, but she said nothing. He wandered on, practically running, a wide grin spreading across his face, this one unforced and very different from what Veronica had seen him wear in the past. It flattered him.

"Come now! I haven't got all day, we need to stop off in the Hall of Holidays, in case you haven't noticed, we are very behind here, and St. Patrick's Day is coming up! We need to think up something quick, so I have time to perfect it!"

It was then that something struck Veronica. It was natural for Wonka to be focusing on a holiday a little under two months in the future, but he had utterly failed to mention his plans for the one that was a little less than a week away.

"Mr. Wonka..? Speaking of holidays, today is February 10th… Are you sure everything is set for Valentine 's Day?"

"Of course I am." He said tartly. "You didn't need to bring that up, did you? All the chocolate is already packed up and ready to send out. You can go in the room of roses if you want to, but all the bushes are bare now."

"I just wanted to know. Have you… uhh… any plans for the day?" Veronica said meekly.

"Of course I have plans. So do you." Wonka said, once again bright and cheerful. "We're gonna be working till our brains fry on my new candy for St. Patrick's Day!"

"That isn't what I meant, and you know it."

"I do?"

"Please don't play that game with me."

"What game?" He was grinning an evil grin, like a little boy who had done something wrong, and was having fun leading his mother on a wild goose chase to discover what it was.

"You're being childish because you don't have a Valentine this year, just like every year. And so you're going to act like a little brat who thinks the world revolves around him and deny the existence of a holiday to the extent that you don't even let me enjoy myself."

"Poppycock. I didn't say you couldn't enjoy yourself. I just said you would be working."

"Is there anything I can do to persuade you to behave otherwise?" Veronica asked, wishing she hadn't left the stiletto heels in her suitcase.

"Psh… like what?" Wonka asked, doubtfully.

"Would you be my Valentine?" Veronica asked, smiling shyly.

"BOY, WOULD I!"

"Ahh… I thought you didn't believe in Valentine's Day." Veronica grinned.

"I don't."

"Then, sorry, but I can't be your Valentine after all. I'll ask one of the Oompa Loompas."

And Veronica didn't say another word on the subject. Despite repeated protests and apologies, she stood firm, grinning, but with her mouth clamped tightly shut, avoiding eye contact with the chocolatier.

"VERONICA, PLEASE? PLEASE? PLEEEASEEE? I'M SORRY! I SAID I WAS SORRY!" He whined, then stood as straight as possible so that, with the hat, he appeared to be towering over Veronica, and cleared his throat. "VERONICA LIGHTFOOT, WE HAVE WORK TO DO." And then hunched back up, whining. "YOU'RE WASTING TIIIME…"

Veronica just grinned. Wonka turned from her, walked twenty feet down the hallway, seething, then came running back. He stopped half way, stiffly, looked very confused and very angry for a moment, turned around to walk away again, and finally turned again and stomped back to Veronica. The expression he then assumed was of extremely forced calm.

"Miss Lightfoot? Will you please accompany me? We have work to do now. I don't care if you talk to me or not, but will you just come ON?" He had begun sweetly, but his rapidly dissolving patience gave way and he ended very loudly and very grumpily. Veronica gestured for him to lead the way, and he did so, not saying a word. Veronica noticed that he was shaking. He was actually shaking with frustration! This made her grin broaden very slightly. Eventually her silence would drive him mad. She chuckled inwardly at this… as if he wasn't mad already. Finally, he spun around, stared at her maddening grin for a moment, then let his face fall utterly expressionless. He reached out a gloved hand and brushed a stray hair from her face, then got down on his knees.

"Veronica Whatever-your-middle-name-is Lightfoot, would you please do me the honor of being my Valentine?" And it was completely sincere.

"It's Ellen. And yes." Veronica smiled.

"Oh good. Now you're at least speaking to me again. Now come on. We have work to do." And Wonka stood up, brushed off the knees of his trousers, (Despite the fact that there was nothing on them in the first place.) and led Veronica off toward the St. Patrick's Day room.


	8. Chapter 8

The room Wonka conducted Veronica into was hidden behind a bright green door. Inside, bright clumps of shamrock sprouted from every corner, and the whole space looked as if it had been brought directly out of the Irish countryside. Veronica didn't, at first, see the use of this room aside from its verdant beauty, but soon she noticed the Oompa Loompas. A few were staggering about, drunk, the rest were busy brewing and bottling various liquids.

"Let me guess, candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker?" Veronica said in a dry attempt at humor.

"No, silly. What would I want to do with nasty, icky alcohol? But you add sugar and… a few secret ingredients, and you have the most delicious filling for chocolate liqueurs… Perfect for St. Patrick's Day, don'tcha think?" Wonka smiled. "Of course, you try telling that to the Oompa Loompas… If I didn't keep an eye on them this time of year, we wouldn't have candy for St. Patrick's Day at all!" He gestured with his cane at one of the Oompas, staggering about with a large bottle, nearly as big as he was. Veronica giggled in spite of herself.

"Ok then, so why are we here?"

"We need to pick out one of these little beauties," Again gesturing with his cane, this time at neat rows of bottled liquids, all organized by type and bottling date, "So that we can come up with some sort of clever candy to lure the drunks away from their green beer. Now, THAT, is disgusting. I'll bet it tastes terrible. Why do they buy it?"

"Because it's St. Patrick's Day… Besides, not everyone gets buzzed on green beer. For some people it's an actual holiday…"

Wonka nodded. He strode over to the shelves of bottles and began perusing.

"In my opinion, the rum liqueurs taste the best, but it is St. Patrick's Day, so we usually sell more of the Irish Cream ones…" He was grabbing bottles off the shelves, clinking them together, until he was toting an armful of them. Then he handed several more to Veronica and conducted her from the room.

"Back to the inventing room!" Wonka said brightly.

"I thought you said 'one…'" Veronica moaned, attempting to balance seven bottles, all of different shapes and sizes.

"Don't drop 'em, or we'll have to go back for more, and there's no time for that." Wonka said, not looking back. He was walking on purposefully and seemed to have no trouble balancing at least 12 bottles, one of which was perfectly round, yet sitting completely still on the very top of the stack, unsupported. Even more incredulous, when they got to the inventing room, he shifted the lot of them into one arm and opened the door with the other, admitting Veronica and then following. As he allowed the bottles to roll, one by one, out of his arms and onto the table, he watched Veronica practically juggling hers, a stricken look on her face. He began giggling at her at once.

"You're really weird! Come on, it's easy." And he approached, and began unloading bottles until only three remained in Veronica's grasp. These she dropped gratefully onto the table and shook out her now exhausted arms.

"Tired already? We have work to do. You can rest later. Come up with anything yet?" He asked her with a smile.

"Come up with anything yet? Whaddya mean 'Come up with anything yet'?" Veronica sputtered. "You're the candyman, not me. I'm here for moral support!"

"Nonsense. You said you were here to help me come up with new candy, and that's what you're gonna do. No sense in not being honorable."

The two of them worked all day. Eventually they had settled on little shamrock shaped chocolates, filled with Irish Cream, that made your tongue turn green, and somehow, Veronica wasn't sure how, but somehow, eating one would cause you to speak in an Irish brogue for the rest of the day. That had been Wonka's brilliant addition, the only one he made, as a matter of fact, and it made Veronica feel very foolish indeed, that she couldn't come up with such a thing.

"The green and the chocolate and the cream is easy. But the challenge is that last part. Boy, are people sure gonna get a surprise! Of course… the Irish aren't going to notice anything, unless something goes wrong, but seeing as I don't employ any Irishmen here… I guess we'll never know!" Wonka was absolutely delighted, flitting about the table where they worked, throwing things into bowls, heating little batches of candy over tiny Bunsen burners, and attempting to handcraft just one little shamrock. Veronica watched him intently, but he had all but forgotten her. It was very late by now, and Veronica found herself unable to keep her eyes open and very hungry. In a surprise move, Wonka had reached into a pocket and tossed her a wrapped Original Wonka Bar, without looking up. Veronica munched on it serenely, then with a yawn, she sat down against a corner of the table and looked back up at the candymaker.

"I think… I'm jus' gonna close my eyes for a sec…" She mumbled, and was asleep before he could even respond.

For the first time in several hours, Wonka turned away from his work. A perfect, tiny chocolate shamrock lay on the table before him, delicately cooling on a small marble slab. He looked down at Veronica, sleeping soundly. She looked like an angel, as perfect as the candy on the table. He prodded her roughly with his cane.

"…Wha..?" Veronica scrambled to her feet. "Wha did you to tha for?" She groaned, half asleep.

"It's done. You're gonna miss it." Wonka whispered.

"Miss what?"

"Shh."

And so she turned and stared intently at the chocolate, imitating Wonka. She half expected the tiny morsel to sprout feathers and fly away, as excited as the man beside her looked. But, in the end, she realized that he was just watching it cool, content with its perfection, before he had to shatter that perception by testing it on someone. She sincerely hoped it wouldn't be her.

"Wanna try it?" He grinned at her, expectantly.

"No thanks… I don't eat chocolate after…" She looked at her watch. "Midnight."

"Nonsense. It's not gonna kill you!"

"It might!" Veronica said uncertainly. "How do you know?"

"Well, I would try it myself, I'm sure it's delicious, but if I end up speaking Mandarin Chinese, I can't very well instruct anyone on how to fix it, can I?" Wonka smiled. His logic stumped her. But before she could come to a decision on whether or not to try it, Wonka yawned broadly.

"Well, time for bed. Speaking of, where are you sleeping?"

"The room at the end of the mirrored hall."

"No you're not." Wonka said simply. "I wouldn't allow that. No one's been in there for years. How did you find it?"

"Charlie found it. He had the Oompa Loompas help him get it ready. Besides, I can't just up and move somewhere else. I'm exhausted, and my suitcase is in that room, I'd have to go there anyway."

"I'll have to speak to the Oompa Loompas… No, I won't allow you to sleep there. We'll just have to find you somewhere else." And he was off, leaving Veronica to chase after him again.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

In the end, the pair was standing in the room at the end of the mirrored hall. The boardroom. Wonka was staring emptily at the dust and ash-filled grate, Veronica sitting uneasily on the creaking bed, fearing it would fall apart. She had her suitcase in her lap.

"Mr. Wonka?"

"Wha-? Oh… Right. Who knew the Oompa Loompas went to bed before I do…" It wasn't really a question, but it was clear that Wonka wasn't exactly living in the present now anyway.

"What was this room?"

"This was the meeting room for my board of directors. I never liked them much anyway; it didn't bother me to have to fire them…" Wonka said tonelessly, still staring into the huge fireplace.

"I can camp out in a hallway somewhere, really. If you don't want me in here… I can understand why." And suddenly it struck her that she had seen him in here before. But when? A dream…

"You can say that again." He replied. And with that, he shuffled out of the room, leaving Veronica to catch up, this time lugging her heavy bag and entirely spent.

He walked, leaning on his cane and dragging his feet, all the way out of the mirrored hall, arriving again in a more brightly lit portion of the factory. Veronica saw, incredulously, that the elevator had stood just to her right. She sighed and set down her bag.

"Listen, Mr. Wonka, can I just crash here? You don't seem to understand that I'm exhausted."

"Won't that be uncomfortable?" He asked.

"Well, yes, but right now I don't care." Veronica sighed.

"Well, I do. Give me your suitcase." He instructed. Veronica noticed that he looked considerably more alive than he had moments ago in the mirrored hall. She handed him the bag, watched him struggle with it for a moment, then straighten up, adjusting his hat.

"You really need to get wheels on that thing. I'll have an Oompa Loompa take care of it in the morning." He said with a smile.

"Yes, thank you, but…" She said flatly.

"You need sleep, yes, you've said that already." Wonka stood, staring at the elevator doors for a moment, thinking. "But where to put you… I know! You can take my room; I'll find somewhere else to go. To tell the truth, I usually just fall asleep wherever I crash…"

Veronica noticed the repetitive nature of this last remark, but was too tired to say anything.

"I can't do that." She said. "But if you'll just leave me here, I'm sure I'll be fine."

"No." He said simply.

"Well, Mr. Wonka, what is your brilliant plan then? This is a one-bedroom mansion, and I'm not letting you give up your own room. Not even for a guest, and not even for a week."

"Slumber party?" He suggested.

"I give up!" Veronica sighed. She snatched her bag back from the chocolatier, and whipped out a small travel pillow, which she promptly collapsed onto the floor with. She was asleep before Wonka had even truly figured out what happened.


	9. Chapter 9

"Wake up sleepyhead! Lots to do!" Veronica growled darkly and threw her pillow in the general direction of the voice. Upon opening her eyes she realized why she had been so eager to stay asleep. A rich purple comforter, much like the one that Wonka slept under, was covering her. She had no idea where it came from, but she had a sneaking suspicion… He was standing over her, threatening to jab her with his cane again, should she refuse to get up immediately. She threw a dirty look directly into his blue velvet eyes and crawled to her feet.

"Sleep well?"

"Yes." Veronica said tartly.

"Well, that's a surprise."

"The best kind of prize is a surprise." Veronica said mockingly.

"I'll have that back now." Wonka said, pointing at the crumpled velvet comforter now lying on the floor.

"Why? You apparently gave it to me. You can have it back when I leave."

"I'm not letting you get any ideas into that pretty little noggin of yours about going back to sleep." He said nonchalantly, snatching it up off the floor. Veronica snorted.

"Now, I'll leave you to get ready, there's a shower somewhere in this building, take the elevator, it'll be faster." And with that, he disappeared down the hall, going who knows where to do who knows what. Veronica sincerely hoped he wouldn't be waiting to ambush her in the shower with fresh towels. But he wasn't. She appeared in paradise 20 minutes later feeling quite refreshed. He was waiting for her, gloved fist at the ready to knock on the Bucket's door for breakfast.

The next few days seemed to go much the same. They worked late into the night, skipped every meal but breakfast, and spent so much time running about the factory; Veronica thought she must certainly have memorized the way around by now. It didn't occur to her that the locations of several rooms seemed to change daily. The second night she had actually fallen asleep in the fudge room and awoken in a room that produced chocolate dipped pretzels. Her location hadn't changed one iota, and she knew it from the look of sheer delight on Wonka's face.

"The fudge room is always the pretzel room on Thursdays!" He had exclaimed. "But I never had the excuse to fall asleep here on a Wednesday night!" He looked around gleefully and then practically dragged Veronica from the room to go down to breakfast.

On the third day, they discovered the "guest room". The Oompa Loompas had apparently taken the liberty of constructing one in the middle of the second day, when there was a lull in the action, but hadn't bothered to tell anyone until Veronica looked like she was about to fall off her feet. The Oompa Loompas had to end up carrying her to bed; Wonka wouldn't touch her under most normal circumstances.

The chocolate shamrocks were not going well. As predicted, the first one caused the unlucky test Oompa Loompa to be able to speak nothing but Mandarin Chinese… And it failed to wear off in 24 hours as promised. The second test chocolate produced an unusual Romanian dialect, which pleased Wonka immensely because 'they were getting closer.' Veronica completely failed to see his logic here. Worse, he no longer seemed to need her around and took to ignoring her for long stretches of the day, even when she attempted to speak to him. By Midnight the night before Valentine's Day, the chocolate's effects wore off in 24 hours, and better still, the Oompa Loompas were now speaking a Cockney accent which had Wonka overjoyed. He actually allowed Veronica to slip off to bed, and better still, gave her a half-hearted 'goodnight' before she went. This was the most attention she had gotten since breakfast the morning previous. She hadn't forgotten about the next day, however, and hoped that his two words to her that night were a sign of better things to come.


	10. Chapter 10

"Wake up sleepyhead! We have work to do!" Wonka said brightly. He was sitting on the end of Veronica's bed, though she had no idea how he had gotten in. She had locked the door when she went to bed. By now she knew to get up without complaint and move as quickly as possible. She didn't want him poking her painfully in the ribs with that cane of his again.

"It's Valentine's Day. I'm your Valentine. Aren't we gonna do anything special?" Veronica asked suggestively. Wonka looked confused for a moment. Then he smiled slightly, kissed the tip of his own purple gloved finger, and pressed it to her lips for a fraction of a second before seizing her by the wrist and dragging her from the room. Well… it was something…

It wasn't until the middle of breakfast, when she was finally sitting in one place long enough to think, that she realized fully what he had done. Butterflies appeared suddenly in the pit of her stomach, and Wonka urged her to eat… Her ears went all pink from embarrassment, and he giggled at her. She was practically on the edge of her seat. What would today bring?

As it turned out, Valentine's Day brought nothing but more of the same. Veronica found herself sitting, very glumly, at the same table she had sat at for three days, staring at the same chocolates and the same Oompa Loompas as she had seen for three days. Worst of all, Wonka was ignoring her again. It seemed that the chocolates were now producing the desired effect, but around noon, after scrupulous testing, Wonka decided it was more of a Scottish accent than an Irish one, and that just wouldn't do. He turned to ask Veronica's opinion and she gave him a swift and snappy reply.

He was behaving as if this wasn't even a holiday. Veronica had known that it would be "Valentine's Day—Willy Wonka style" for days now, but she didn't know "Willy Wonka style" would mean ignoring it completely.

He didn't ignore it completely, Veronica reminded herself. But she had had to remind him first…

Finally, late in the evening, Wonka turned to her.

"It's dinner time." Was all he said.

"We get dinner tonight? Must be some sort of holiday… oh wait…" Veronica muttered sarcastically.

"Well, don't just stand there. Do you want dinner or not?"

"Please." Veronica replied tartly, not looking at him.

He conducted her into the great glass elevator, and as the doors shut and it took off, Veronica resumed her usual display of shrieking and swaying. Though she could now stay on her feet, she still kept her eyes tightly squeezed shut. Finally, they stopped moving.

"You know… That's really getting old. Seriously, it's not that big a rush." Wonka said, stepping out.

"We… We're not in paradise." Veronica said.

"'Course we're not. The Buckets are all asleep by now."

He was leading the way to who knows where. Seriously, the only label on the door read "Who knows where" in big, bold letters.

"This is my general purpose room." Wonka smiled. "We'll be eating here tonight."

"Wonderful. I could have just made my room here…" Veronica said dryly. She still had not looked at her companion, nor had she allowed him to take her hand as he had tried to. So Wonka simply opened the door and stepped inside, not waiting to see if she would follow or not.

"Oh. My. God…" Veronica was staring at what appeared to be a tiny room, lit by thousands of candles lining the walls. At the center of the room was a small table, draped in a white tablecloth, and two elegant looking, straight backed chairs. Veronica finally looked at the candymaker, whose pale face was illuminated in the glow of the candles, though the shadow from his hat was playing strangely across his eyes. He was smiling that smile again, not the forced one, but the one that suited him perfectly, showing off his too-straight, gleaming white teeth just enough, without being creepy. A hint of apprehension tugged at her. And regret. All day she had been nothing but a grouch, there was no way on this earth she deserved this. And he had not even hinted at anything more than a full day of work… Yet here they were, in the most perfect room in the entire factory.

Wonka could feel the butterflies in his stomach… they were apparently practicing difficult aviation maneuvers in what was evidently too small a space. They were banging around everywhere. His palms were sweaty. He hated it when his palms were sweaty. That meant he needed a new pair of gloves. He wasn't yet ready to admit how nervous he really was, but he really, REALLY hoped that Veronica was in a better mood now. He had been planning this ever since he had broken down and asked her to be his Valentine, and the Oompa Loompas had done everything perfectly. With a small stab of regret, he wished they had come to dinner earlier, but he knew that an imperfect candy would nag at him the whole time… He never would be able to devote the required amount of attention to Veronica. Namely, all of it. He looked to her for approval.

"This is… amazing." Veronica whispered, feeling more and more lame by the minute. How could she have been so terrible earlier? "It's the most beautiful thing I've ever seen." She wasn't sure if she was referring to the room in general, or just him.

"The best kind of prize is a surprise." He replied serenely.

"I don't deserve this…"

"'Course you do. You've been very helpful." Wonka said, attempting to control his impulse for forced cheer.

"Thank you…"

"Sit."

Veronica sat down at one of the straight backed chairs. Too late, Wonka thought of seating her, and he looked very bashful when he sat down. There was the slightest rose tint to his cheeks, and he looked at his feet in embarrassment. Veronica smiled.

"So… What's on the menu?" She asked, somewhat awkwardly. She was quickly reminded of her first dinner date, in the eighth grade.

A pair of tuxedo-clad Oompa Loompas served them dinner. Veronica was surprised by how well they could cook.

"And… the Oompa Loompas did this?" She asked.

"Yes. They're very talented." Wonka smiled.

Dinner consisted of some sort of roast, with a savory chocolate sauce. The pair ate in silence, and Veronica hoped against hope that this night didn't turn out like the date in eighth grade. She had never spoken to that boy again.

Finally, when they were finished, and the plates had been cleared, Wonka looked up. Veronica's grey eyes sparkled in the candlelight. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it, thoughtfully. He repeated this process a few times, clearly at a loss for something adequate to say. He looked at his gloved hands for a long time, Veronica watching expectantly. And then he did it.

He peeled off the gloves, one after the other, and set them on the corner of the table. Then he reached out and took Veronica's hands, living flesh on living flesh for the first time in almost two decades.

"Happy Valentine's Day." It was almost a choked whisper.

"Happy Valentine's Day." Even in the candlelight, it wasn't hard to see happy tears gathering in Veronica's eyes. She squeezed his hands lightly. They were very soft, for having no physical contact with anything but the inside of his gloves for years.

"Happy Valentine's Day."


	11. Chapter 11

Omigoshomigoshomigosh… Veronica's mind was racing. It was something that Willy Wonka NEVER did. Even still, after all the progress he had made, both with his father and with her, never had she even seen him take off his gloves. She knew he slept without them, but that was obvious. This, however, had taken her completely and utterly by surprise. She was shaking, her hands were shaking, and her very insides were shaking. He had dared share with her the most precious gift he had to give… his trust, himself. More precious than all the candy that would come out of this building in his lifetime, this was. Veronica dearly wished she would never have to wash her hands again. However, she knew that if she was to accompany him to make more candy tomorrow… But then her heart sank. She had accomplished her purpose. She had helped him invent just one new kind of candy, and he had taken and perfected it. Her job was done, and now she would have to go home. Face her small, empty flat for days at a time. There was nothing for her to do at home but clean, and order Chinese take-out for dinner. She was unemployed, couldn't cook, and for the first time in her life, she didn't want to stay in that little house alone. But she couldn't take advantage of Mr. Wonka's hospitality, and she knew that. Besides, he seemed so much happier now than on her previous visits. And she was sure it wasn't the shallow cheer that he wore to discourage people from worrying, ergo caring for him. But he was happy. Really happy, and that made Veronica feel better. If she left, she might be miserable, but at least she was leaving him in better shape than when she came.

She was leaving tomorrow. She couldn't leave tomorrow. He'd have to convince her to stay, play the pitiful lonely chocolatier card and then maybe she would believe him. Believe he needed her to stay. The truth was, Willy Wonka himself believed he needed her to stay. Look at all the good she had done around here! He had gone from being dreadfully behind schedule to just slightly behind schedule, and he was almost always just slightly behind schedule, so that was just peachy as far as he was concerned. But how to convince her? Wonka thought for awhile. Fall down on his knees and proclaim his everlasting devotion? Nah, too overdone. Sweep her off her feet with a kiss that, were this a movie, would make all the drooling fangirls green with envy? Yuck! That was just disgusting! But what? What could he do that he hadn't already done? And then it struck him that perhaps what he had already done was all he needed to do. Maybe he would wake her up tomorrow and she would beg him to let her stay on and learn the secrets of candymaking… or something like that. And even if she didn't, he was sure he could convince her that it was a very lucrative opportunity. Yes, that was it. He would take his cues from her come tomorrow morning, even if that meant she, being eager to go home and leave this life of madness, would never come see him again. He sighed. He hated when life left him with his best option being a choice like this.

At length, he looked down at his hands. He, seeing no sense in putting on a pair of gloves just to take them off again when he got to bed, found himself looking at bare flesh, something he never really saw any of… But that was a thought for another time. His hands were very pale, very smooth, and very childlike, having been protected from the everyday elements for so long. In fact, it was almost surprising to him to discover that his hands weren't truly purple after all. He smiled at the thought. Of course, if everyone's hands were purple, they would clash horribly with peoples' clothing. Not everybody had the impeccable fashion sense that he had… But he was rapidly getting off topic. He reined in his thoughts a bit, and they settled on that evening. He saw Veronica's eyes sparkling in the candlelight. He desperately wished they would have found something to talk about at dinner, but talking when one is eating is a rather vulgar habit anyway… Still, it would have taken the edge off, and he wouldn't have been so nervous. He had never been that nervous around Veronica before. In fact, he had never been that nervous around a girl before… unless you counted Mrs. Beauregarde when he had told them about chocolate and endorphins… but she was beastly. Once again he reined in his thoughts; he seemed to have to do that a lot more lately. Usually he just let them roam wherever they wanted to go, but as of late, they had been venturing into far off dusty corners of his mind, and what he found there was rarely pleasant.

"Veronica…" He mumbled, attempting to keep himself on track. Ahh, yes, Veronica. He had been very nervous that evening. Especially in those moments just before… Well, he had been planning some nice way to wish her a happy Valentine's Day for days, but when it came to the moment, none of the options he had given himself had seemed adequate enough. So he came up with one on the fly. He decided he quite liked that one, in hindsight. Yes, the evening had gone swimmingly, when you looked at it like this. But one thing puzzled Mr. Wonka. Was human contact always like that? He could remember the jolt, energy passing between two people, and the resonation that followed, burrowing its way all the way into his heart. It was… strange but not unpleasant. He wondered if it was always like that. Part of him was curious to find out, but part of him still hoped he'd never have to. After all, the only person you can trust in this world is yourself…

"Stop it." He mumbled into the darkness. But the thought circulated a few more times in his mind before fading away. Eventually he fell asleep, purple comforter tucked around his chin. Even after three days, it still bore some strange quality… He noticed the difference on the first night he slept under it again, after stealing it back from Veronica. He couldn't put his purple gloved finger on it then, but something was different about it. He had first discovered this in the elevator, when he was holding it at arm's length, to be taken and washed. Something made him change his mind. Now as he dozed, burying his face in it, he inhaled deeply. It was more comforting now. He sincerely hoped it wouldn't wear off anytime soon.


	12. Chapter 12

The next morning dawned cold, wet, and rainy. It was the kind of day that would miserably fade into a snowy night far too early. Veronica opened her eyes. She was completely alone. Now that was a surprise, and not the kind that made the best kind of prizes. She supposed it was only because of what had happened the night before. She wondered if he was sequestered in his room now, too embarrassed to look at her now that they were back in the light. But this thought was banished as she heard the lock click. She closed her eyes, so that she could just barely see, and pulled the covers up around her face. She was going to see how Wonka managed to startle her every morning. She watched, letting the blankets conceal her growing grin, as Wonka opened the door, ever so slowly, then tiptoed in. He looked at her for a long moment, as if trying to discern whether or not she was really asleep, then, seemingly satisfied, he sat down very carefully on the edge of the bed. Then he leaned over, quite close, and grinned.

"You're already awake, aren't you?" He whispered astutely.

"How did you know?" Veronica pouted, sitting up.

"Because." Wonka replied with a mysterious grin.

"That's not fair! My last morning here, and I still don't know how you really do it!" Veronica whined.

At her words, the thought of sweeping her off her feet with a kiss flashed through Wonka's mind. He tried very hard not to make a face as he banished this thought, insisting inwardly that he would leave it up to Veronica.

"You… don't have to leave if you don't want to. You can stay here and learn the finer points of candymaking. With me." Ok, that hadn't come out exactly like he had hoped. He had hoped to be much more subtle, but… there you have it, since when was Willy Wonka ever subtle? Veronica smiled.

"I appreciate the offer, but like I said, I can't boil water without burning it."

"Oh, it's real easy, see you just…" Wonka began, but Veronica cut him off.

"I can't stay, Mr. Wonka. I would just get in the way."

"Poppycock."

Veronica smiled. He was waiting, on the edge of his seat, hoping she would just say yes. And she knew it.

"I can't." She said quietly. "At least not right now." Damn her conscience! That little line meant that he would be pulling her back in next week. She had to make a decision, life on the outside, or life on the inside. And seeing as there seemed to be no real place for her on the inside… She sighed.

"But… You'll be back?"

"Of course I will." Veronica looked at him. What was she gonna do? Abandon him when he had just bared his soul (Well, his hands…) to her? "I told you I'm not going to just leave you. If you need me, you can find me."

She had no idea how much he was bursting to say 'I need you.' at that point. But he kept his mouth shut. This wasn't the time or the place for that. Besides, he could last a little while without her around… couldn't he? He was Willy Wonka, the amazing chocolatier! A chocolatier should be free and unfettered. Not with some girl hanging over him like… Stop that!

His thoughts were traveling into one of those dusty corners again.

Veronica, meanwhile, was thinking again too. She didn't really have a purpose anymore outside of the factory either… no. She had to go home. If she was still paying rent on that place, she would have to go home. Besides, how weird would it be to say she lived with Willy Wonka? That would bring up a lot of strange questions… Then again, who would she be saying that to anyway? Her mother had died when Veronica was 20, she was an only child, and she didn't even have a cat she could talk to. She was completely unattached in the world outside now. Ever since she had handed in her resignation at the Health Agency, all ties had been cut. She had friends here. But that would be unnecessary. She would get a new job outside the factory, she would make new friends. He had simply helped her shrug off that sense of responsibility to her old life and helped her find the correct mindset for a new one. She couldn't just take advantage of his hospitality, and give him nothing in return. Besides, if she got too attached here, she would only start insisting on his taking time from his work, and she couldn't ask that. It was better she go. At least that's what she told herself. She was suddenly aware that he was staring at her, and wondered how long she had been lost in contemplation.

"Having a flashback?" He asked. Evidently she had been mentally absent long enough…

"No, just thinking…" Veronica said, ears going pink. She pushed her glasses slightly up on her nose, probably the first time she had done so while staying here, and rose from the bed, preparing to pack her things. She looked around at the Spartan white room that she had called home for the past few nights. It was the first time she really looked at it. White walls, white bed, white sheets, a small white side table with a white lily growing in a white pot, even a small but very comfortable white chair in the corner. It was like a dream of perfection, and yet here it was, real. She never would have had the courage to decorate a room like that at home, but she had to admit, she liked it. It was such a contrast then, to see Wonka sitting on the end of the bed, looking like a peacock in the desert. Even his blue eyes seemed deeper, like he lived in Technicolor, though the room was black and white. And she wondered, for there was no mirror in this room, if she looked the same, or if she was drab and dull when he was with her. She became conscious that he had risen and was now following her around the room as she picked up her things and packed, and though he would crouch down beside her every time she picked something up off the floor, he wasn't helping. He was just… taking her in… making sure he had fulfilled his day's quota of her before she left and he had to go back to making those shamrocks. Maybe he would teach Charlie how to make them today…

It was then that Veronica noticed what had become of her suitcase. The Oompa Loompas had indeed added wheels to it, very colorful wheels that swirled inside like lava lamps when they were in motion. Veronica smiled. At least she would never lose this bag at the airport… She turned to pick up a few more items, not noticing that Wonka had mysteriously materialized another one of his wine colored coats out of thin air, pinned a small scrap of paper to it, and stuffed it in her suitcase. In fact, every time Veronica turned around, Wonka was putting something else in her bag that she had not packed when she came, from the coat to a pillow, to a pair of his heeled boots, and some purple gloves. Veronica saw nothing, but she certainly noticed that her bag was mysteriously heavier, even with wheels… Finally, with an innocent grin, Wonka led her to the elevator, preparing to escort her to the gates, and home.

This time, Veronica tried extra hard not to scream as the elevator spun and leapt through the factory. She whimpered and closed her eyes, but opened them just a crack midway through the ride to see Wonka grinning absentmindedly, watching the scenery flash by. She, however, thought she would be sick, and squeezed her eyes shut again almost immediately. As soon as she did, Wonka stuffed a large glass jar full of buttons and a pair of Charlie's socks into her suitcase. Finally, the elevator slowed, and the pair disembarked in the front foyer, the place Veronica had first really looked at Willy Wonka. How different they both were now. She took up her suitcase and looked back at the chocolatier. He seemed to be making it plain that he wasn't going with her to the gates, but instead was going to abandon her at the door.

"Well… I had a wonderful time… for the most part." Veronica said awkwardly.

"Yeah." Wonka sighed. He looked at her to say something else.

"So… umm… goodbye I guess."

"'Bye."

Veronica turned and was halfway through the doors, suitcase clunking down the stairs.

"Veronica!" She turned around. Wonka was standing in the doorway, seemingly without purpose. He beckoned her to come back. As soon as she was within arm's reach, he grabbed her, pulled her in the door, and kissed her, literally sweeping her off her feet. And then he released her, face nearly the color of his coat. She stared at him.

"Well… g'bye." He mumbled, then turned on his heel and walked very quickly back toward the end of the hall.


	13. Chapter 13

Stupid, stupid, stupid! Why had he done that? That was the stupidest thing he had ever done. But the thought had nagged at him like an unfinished candy at Halloween and he had to do something about it! Wonka found himself pacing the foyer, completely at a loss for what to do now. Worse yet, he had just… thrown her out afterward. There was no sense in having just another awkward moment, but this was ridiculous. That's right Willy, slam the door in her face! He was tapping his cane fervently on the floor, so much so that all the Nerds inside had shaken themselves loose of years of entrapment and were now shifting about noisily with every step he took. Well, you couldn't change the past, and Wonka knew that quite well. At the very least, with any luck, Veronica would be discovering the contents of her suitcase soon…

Veronica had opened her bag and, after pulling out Charlie's socks and the jar of buttons, thought it best to just upend the whole bag and dump everything on her bed. There was the pillow, the boots, the gloves, the jacket, a rubber duck, a pair of enormous sunglasses, exactly thirteen buttons from a computer keyboard (All W's), a potted plant that was now spilling dirt all over her clothes, three towels, a spark plug, seven keys, an encyclopedia (Volume W), and a single chocolate rose. Veronica looked at all the unexpected additions incredulously.

"How did he…" She noticed the scrap of paper tacked to the jacket and, brushing the dirt off, she picked it up and read.

_Veronica, _

_Thank you for spending Valentine's Day with me._

_It was the most super-cool fun holiday I've ever _

_had. We should do it again sometime. Please _

_return these things to me ASAP. Thanks a bunch, _

_WW_

_P.S. Not the chocolate rose. You keep that one._

Veronica smiled. She picked up the chocolate rose and inhaled, expecting to smell chocolate. But instead the most wonderful scent of rose surrounded her. She was too enamored by it to eat it. She looked at the mess now lying on her bed, then picked up a few things and tried to brush the dirt off them. Next she rescued the potted plant and placed it on the table next to her bed. And then…

She hadn't played dress-up since she was about seven years old. So why she was now tromping around her house in Willy Wonka's coat, shoes, gloves, and glasses was anybody's guess. She had grabbed a meterstick from the back of her closet and strode around the room, using it as a cane. She found herself tripping all over the place, like when she was young and tried to put on her mother's shoes. Veronica never had small feet, so, looking down at the boots, she had to suppress a laugh. Willy Wonka's feet were huge! Eventually, when the novelty wore off, and she had put aside the glasses, boots, 'cane', and gloves, she collapsed on her sofa in his coat and pulled it as tight as she could around her. It was only now that she appreciated how thin he was, because it seemed to be quite a good fit for her slim frame. It smelled like chocolate, of course, but also of some strange exotic spice… and just a hint of peanuts. Veronica sighed. Of course this meant that she would have to go back and return these things… Somehow she was both looking forward to and dreading that trip. For as much as it meant going back to where she belonged, and yes, now that she thought about it, she knew she belonged there, it also meant that she would have to leave again, say goodbye again, and go through what she knew she was going to go through again. She was going to miss him. Miss being woken in the morning by a jab of his cane, miss the constant smell of some wondrous candy, miss breakfast at the Bucket's, and even miss his determined ignorance of her when he was working. She pulled his jacket up around her even more and sighed again. Maybe she could convince him to let her keep the jacket.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

A letter arrived in the mail for Veronica the next day. It had no return address, and was not signed. But it requested she report to the offices of the European Health Agency immediately the next morning. She read and re-read the letter skeptically several times. Finally she decided that it would probably be best if she showed up, just in case. A fleeting sense of worry passed over her. What if they had re-read her file on Wonka's factory? They would discover all the things she conveniently failed to mention; the river, the meadow, the Oompa Loompas… just to name a few. Then she would really be in trouble, and so would Wonka. But once a presentation had been made to the Health Advisory Board, files were rarely reopened, so Veronica dismissed this fear as needless. She had grown quite fond of Wonka's jacket, and was still wearing it when she left the house that day. She was going to get chocolate, the first time she would have to pay for it since she had met Wonka. She sighed. Eventually she wouldn't even be able to afford her weekly treat, for the first time since she was five. Well… unless she found a new job. But this was a tiny town, and there wasn't really a use for a displaced health inspector, even one who had lived here her whole life. The familiar bell jingled as she entered the corner store, formerly Wonka's original candy shop. She looked around. Though it still bore its whimsical appearance, she knew that the magic had left this place long ago. It was difficult for her to imagine that, all the while she was growing up, even when she was a tiny girl, five years old, the man who owned the coat that she was now wearing, the man who woke her every morning with a jab of his cane and a "wake up sleepyhead!" the man who had swept her off her feet just the morning before and then run off, embarrassed, had toiled in this same place, had walked this floor, and she knew it, but never saw him. She had known of him even then, at five years old. And what if she would have seen him on that one last day? Would any of this have even happened now? Because, to Willy Wonka, Veronica Lightfoot didn't exist until she smiled at him through the gate on that first day. What if he would have seen the little girl? Would she still be wearing his coat? She hugged it to her and approached the counter. The elderly gentleman who came to serve her looked at her for a moment, no, ogled her was more like it.

"Where did you get that coat, Miss?" He asked, almost whispering.

"This coat? Uhh…" Veronica cast about frantically for an answer. None came.

"You're a friend of Willy Wonka's, or else you want to look like you are." The man said. "Which is it?"

"I'm a friend."

"Nonsense. Willy Wonka has no friends. And he certainly doesn't have a girlfriend to wander around in his clothes… Wonka has a private tailor. Now are you going to tell me how you really got that coat?"

Neither the elderly gentleman nor Veronica noticed the shadowy looking man in the corner, listening to their conversation. The man smiled nastily, then got up and exited the store, not saying a word.

"I told you, I'm a friend of Wonka's. I spent the holiday with him and his apprentice. My name is Veronica Lightfoot and I am… was a health inspector for the EHA." Veronica stood as straight as she could. "All I wanted was to buy a bar of chocolate. I'm in here every week, I'm sure you recognize me."

"That I do, lady, that I do. But that coat perplexes me. Now, I know for a fact that no one enters that factory. If they did, I would know about it. I used to work there. Now I work here. Only job left for those of us who were loyal to Wonka and wanted to continue working for him. Now, Miss Lightfoot, will you tell me how you really got that coat? I'm afraid I can't sell you a thing unless I know you aren't a spy for Slugworth or one of those other no good cheating copycats."

"Am I going to have to bring Willy Wonka himself here to tell you?" Veronica asked, perplexed. Then she remembered the note. She fished it out of the pocket of the coat and handed it to the man at the counter. He read it, and his eyes widened.

"That's Willy Wonka's handwriting. And I assume he's talking about you. In that case, we should be celebrating! You know, it broke my heart to see that poor boy all alone in that big factory. He handed out the pink slips personally. I was the last one to leave before he made the public announcement. I can remember him… sitting in that big boardroom all alone, exhausted from weeks of endless searching for whoever was stealing his ideas. But there were too many of them. He never found them all. Listen, Miss, you come in here whenever you like and the candy's on the house. I'm sure Mr. Wonka won't mind." The man smiled and handed her her usual chocolate bar. Veronica grinned. She was about to leave, but suddenly turned back to the man behind the counter.

"I'd like that note back please. I'd rather like to keep it." Her ears went a little pink as the man handed her the slip of paper.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

The next morning Veronica regrettably had to leave Wonka's coat behind, dressing herself in the stiff khaki skirt and white blouse that her old job required. She slipped her trim black coat over her shoulders, pushed her glasses up on her nose, just slightly, and strode out the door with a sigh. She felt so drab and unexciting, and missed the stares of passerby as she strode through the streets. The wine colored coat really did flatter her… She approached a building at the end of a narrow, twisting street. The building was large and squarish, with "EHA" in bold letters above the door. Veronica's thoughts flashed to all the other things EHA could stand for. 'Economic Hell Ahead' was her favorite, and probably the most descriptive title she could bestow on the agency. She giggled. Ever since she had come here looking for a job, nearly six years ago, she had known this building to hold nothing but misery for her. But she had had no choice then. Her mother had just died, and there was no way for an unemployed, 20 year old Veronica to keep going to school and keep a home to go back to during the summer. So she had given up her dreams and come instead here. No wonder she had grown up so fast… But now with friends like Wonka, she knew that she didn't have to be a slave to her job. It was time to put this behind her, once and for all, and move on.

Most of the building was still dark, being very early in the morning. Veronica was greeted at the door by one of her former coworkers, and he led her into a dimly lit room already occupied by one individual. Veronica thought he looked vaguely familiar, but decided she must have seen him on the street somewhere during one of her frequent walks. He was an older gentleman, very thin and balding, and he had a rather unpleasant glint in his eye. Veronica shivered.

"Good morning, Miss Lightfoot. Good to see you back here again. To be very frank, we have a proposition for you. Please sit down."

Veronica remained standing, looking uneasily at the two men.

"What sort of proposition?" She asked.

"Word has been spreading that you are becoming something of a regular at Wonka's candy factory. It seems a little odd that, after 16 years, he would let in a woman that he barely knows for weeks at a time. Don't you think so?"

"You sent me there. He had to let me in."

"Oh come now, Veronica… We know how you've been spending your newly found free time. I am prepared to offer you your job back… with a considerable raise. Would you like that?"

"Not especially."

"Ahh, but we also know you'll be needing the money in the future. Don't pretend the wolves aren't already at the door, darling."

"I'll have a new job soon."

"Not if we can help it." The thin man rose and shut the door. Veronica could feel the hair on the back of her neck stand up. What was going on?

"You are going to help us, Veronica dear. Or you will be sincerely sorry. The agency wants to know a little more about how Wonka produces those miraculous chocolates of his. If we don't get the info… we could stage a raid, close his doors… but we think it would be much easier for you to tell us. Don't you think?"

"I wouldn't tell you anything. And you know it."

"Oh, but you will." The thin man rose and looked at Veronica, nasty glint flickering in his eye. "My name is Slugworth, and I am prepared to pay you a considerable fortune to smuggle out the secrets of the Wonka candy factory. If you don't… Well, let's just say you wouldn't want to let the family down, would you?" He grinned, showing a set of stained and crooked teeth.  
"I have no family. There's no one for you to hurt. Just me. And I'm prepared to handle anything."

"No, no, no, child. You don't understand. You aren't as alone in this world as you think. Have a look." And Slugworth produced from his pocket a stained and torn picture. He stood, looking as sour as ever, with a smiling young woman… Veronica's mother. "Understand now?"

It couldn't be. Veronica shrank towards the door.

"No…" She whispered.

"I'm not surprised, you never were exactly Daddy's little girl, were you? But then, your mother left me when you were so young. Claimed I was far too obsessed with the secrets of Wonka's chocolate. But then… so are you."

"If I have an interest in Wonka, it's not simply for his secrets."

"We didn't think so. But we have insurance, just in case." He also procured a large roll of paper from his coat.

"The deed to your house, Miss… Lightfoot. I understand you wish to preserve your mother's dreams, ergo her memory, the best you can? I can take it away. Instantly. You won't have a home to go to; your precious Mr. Wonka won't have a factory you can seek refuge in. So… what is your decision, Veronica? You could be the heir to a fortune in chocolate… or you could just fade away with Mr. Bittersweet and Nuts."

"I have no other choice?" Veronica looked at them, desperately afraid. But she already knew her answer. It was as simple as that. "Then take your threats and go to hell. As far as I'm concerned… my father died long before I can remember. And I have no loyalty to one who would crush the dreams of others if he couldn't fulfill his own the right way." She didn't wait for a reaction; she simply turned on her heel and strode away.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

She hit the front doors, and started running. Home, to gather up everything Wonka had apparently loaned her, and then… to him. She had to tell someone. As she packed her suitcase with everything she needed to return, she stopped and stole a glance at the coffee table beside her couch. On it rested a picture of herself and her mother. Beside it lay the chocolate rose. Veronica felt tears burning her eyes and blurring her vision, and it drove her on faster. It wasn't long before everything she owned was stowed in the trunk of her car… something she rarely used, but this was an emergency. She turned and looked at the gutted remains of her mother's flat, now bereft of any life they may have lived there. Then she ran out the door, locked it for what she hoped would be the last time, and leapt in her car, speeding to the very gates of Wonka's factory and honking her horn to be let in.


	14. Chapter 14

It wasn't until she was right outside those familiar gates, waiting for them to open and admit her, that it hit her like a brick in the face. Slugworth, the despicable scum who had stolen Wonka's secrets and manufactured them at much lower quality and price, was her father. Her stomach heaved unpleasantly and she stumbled out of the car just in time to retch in the gutter at the side of the road.

"Eww."

"Glad to see you too, Mr. Wonka…" She mumbled.

"You know, you haven't actually seen me yet…" He said, matter-of-factly. Veronica looked up; face suddenly quite pale and shining with cold sweat. The only thing she was thankful for at the moment was the fact that her hair had been put up in its tight bun. Wonka was now inspecting her car, but turned back for a moment.

"Wow! You look terrible! You know, I don't think I've ever seen anyone look quite that awful before…"

"Thank you…" She muttered sarcastically.

"Umm… When I said to return everything… I didn't mean everything you own. Are you coming to live with us and learn how to be a famous chocolatier?" Wonka asked, rifling through the trunk of her car.

"No. I'm running away from my problems." Veronica sighed. "Hence the getting sick in the gutter."

"Yeah… that was gross." Wonka muttered, half to himself, now inspecting old photo albums and tossing fragile looking items carelessly to one side of her trunk. "Eww." He shivered.

Suddenly, Veronica's sense of purpose came rushing back. She clambered up off her knees and stumbled over to the chocolatier, grabbing him by the lapels of his coat.

"Mr. Wonka, Slugworth…my father… the EHA… Blackmail! They want to take… Your factory… MY HOUSE!" All of this came tumbling from her in a rush as she practically shook the poor candymaker silly.

"Ummm… are you sure you haven't been eating any of my Crackling Rocket Pops? I may have left a few in the pocket of that coat, and their recipe definitely needs work…" Wonka said lightly, attempting to pry Veronica's hands from his coat. It wasn't going well. "All caffeine… and carbon dioxide…"

"I'm being blackmailed for your secrets." Veronica finally said, remembering how to string words together to make sentences.

"What?" With a rather unpleasant ripping sound, Wonka finally managed to remove Veronica from his coat.

"My father is Slugworth. He… ugh…" And Veronica stumbled away to be sick in the gutter again.

"Listen, if you're gonna do that every time we try to discuss this… I'd rather not talk about it, kay?" Wonka edged away, to the far edge of Veronica's car, wrestled with the decision of whether or not to be supportive, and then, grudgingly approached Veronica with the same care as an animal control officer approaching a raccoon with rabies. Veronica seized his forearm and pulled herself back onto her feet, wearily.

"He's teamed up with the EHA… they're both corrupt. They told me if I don't cooperate, they'll raid your factory. Slugworth… he owns the deed to my house…"

"Well, then you can come and live HERE. Like I've been saying all along." Wonka said slowly, as if speaking to an invalid.

"Not if they close your factory."

"They're not gonna close my factory. They can't do that."

Veronica looked at him incredulously.

"You're not gonna be sick again, are you?" He asked uncertainly, ready to snatch his arm back.

"What do you mean they can't do that? They're the European Health Agency; they can do what they want!"

"Geez, for working for them for six years, you sure don't know much, do you?" Wonka smiled cheerfully. "It's against the law for anyone, including the EHA to raid or seize property without probable cause and a written warrant from the police department. Now… warn me if you're gonna… do that… again." He looked at her apprehensively.

"I'll be fine. Oh, and don't ever let me say the words 'Slugworth' and 'father' in the same sentence ever again." Veronica moaned.

"I hate to burst your bubble, but you just did. And… for the record, 'Slugworth'…" Wonka gagged for a moment, then looked rather sheepishly back at Veronica, "Isn't a word. It's a name."

"Lovely, now can I come in and return your things and get cleaned up?" Veronica asked.

"As long as you promise not to do that anymore." Wonka gestured with his cane at the gutter, grimacing.

"I'll do my level best." Veronica smiled weakly, and let Wonka help her back to her car.


	15. Chapter 15

A.N. I may squeeze one more daily update in tomorrow morning, but after that I will be going on vacation for a week with no internet access. I'm still alive, and DEFINATELY still writing, and I'm bringing my laptop, so I will have plenty of Willy and Veronica's adventures to share with you when I get back... and if I get lucky, I may, MAY be able to get online once sometime midweek to surprise you all!

It wasn't long before Veronica had cleaned herself up, and she was presently sitting in the guestroom with a steaming cup of hot chocolate, sipping it quietly. Wonka was now rifling through her suitcases for all the things she was supposed to return. When he lifted the coat out from among her things, she started.

"Umm… I was actually wondering if I could keep that one. I've grown somewhat fond of it." She said quietly.

"Absolutely not! I have a private tailor, have you any idea how much these things cost?"

"In other words, an Oompa Loompa made it, and you can't afford to give them any more cocoa beans, before production suffers." Veronica snorted.

"Exactly." Wonka beamed at her. "You catch on quick!"

"In that case…" Veronica approached him and snatched the pair of gloves out of the suitcase, before he could take them back. "I'm keeping these." She smirked.

"Go ahead…" Wonka muttered, watching her pull them on with great satisfaction. She flexed her fingers happily for a few moments, listening to the squeaky sound the gloves made, then, noticing Wonka staring at her, she dropped her arms limply to her sides.

"Having fun?"

"…Shouldn't we be talking about the present… situation?" Veronica felt her heart sink like a lead weight, apparently hitting her stomach on the way down, because she suddenly felt quite ill again.

"Not if you're gonna get sick again, we're not." Wonka said anxiously, noticing how pale she had suddenly become.

Veronica sank back into the comfy white chair, clutching at her cup of hot chocolate with her two bizarrely purple hands. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcibly reminded of a ride in that horrid elevator, but trying unsuccessfully to banish that image from her mind. She was NOT going to be sick again.

"Well, I have to talk to someone!" She said.

"You can talk to Frank, he's an excellent listener!" Wonka grinned.

"Frank's an Oompa Loompa, isn't he?" Veronica asked dryly.

"Of course he is!"

"Mr. Wonka, I don't think an Oompa Loompa is going to be able to help me." Veronica said.

"I do have a first name ya know." Wonka snorted.

"Don't get me all tangled up off the subject!"

"I was just telling you…"

"Mr. Wonka… Will…Willy! Dammit, don't confuse me more. I need to lie down…" Veronica moaned. Wonka looked at her, quite interested, as she shuffled over to the edge of the bed, and flopped down unceremoniously.

"I've only been called 'Will' once before. Where did that come from?" His blue velvet eyes bore into her, attempting once more to read the secrets of her soul.

"I… don't know." Veronica said quietly. "A dream, maybe?" But try as she may, she could not remember ever calling him Will before, not even in a dream. She was utterly spent.

"Please don't make me go home." She whispered, beginning to doze.

"I TOLD you, you can stay HERE." Wonka insisted, but Veronica was already sleeping.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

Wonka didn't let her sleep long enough to dream. He woke her, not with a jab of his cane, but instead with a tap of his gloved finger on her nose.

"We have work to do, get up sleepyhead!"

"How long have I been sleeping?" Veronica asked, blinking at the bright light.

"Oh… about twenty minutes. But I have work to do, and I'm not just gonna leave you to wander around lost in this place all day. You come with me." Wonka smiled. "We get to test all the machinery today, make sure nothing's broken." And he seized her by the wrist, pulled her out of bed, and practically dragged her to the elevator.

"Aren't you afraid I'll cave to the pressure of blackmail, and tell all your secrets?" Veronica asked.

"Well, for one, you won't. And, for two, you already know all my secrets, 'cause of the tour I gave you the first day. It's not my fault if you didn't listen to me." Wonka smiled and gestured for her to get in the elevator. Veronica sighed, and took a resigned step into the little glass box.

"So the answer's no." Wonka finally finished, pressing a button.

Veronica quickly remembered how weak her stomach seemed to be that day. She kept her eyes squeezed as tightly shut as she could, and she clamped her mouth shut as well. She didn't get sick, but she didn't want to get back in the elevator again. Wonka briskly brushed past her, cane tapping on the floor in rhythm with his gait. He stood perfectly upright, hat tilted just slightly on his head. Veronica realized that she had never actually seen him without his hat on, and the one time he actually was without it, she was so busy staring at his hideous pajamas… She had the sudden urge to snatch it off his head and run off, laughing like a maniac. But her stomach still felt iffy, and so she decided it was better to just follow him obediently. They moved through several rooms where everything seemed to be in perfect working order, and Veronica almost wondered why they were doing this.

"We need to get ready for the Easter rush." Wonka said, almost as if reading her mind. "I can't have anything breaking down when we're stretched that thin, that just wouldn't do."

Finally, when it was nearing what would normally be dinner time, Wonka led Veronica into the Taffy room. There was the taffy puller, sitting on the far side of the room, enormous and imposing. And there were two Oompa Loompas, getting ready to pull a rather large batch of taffy. They pushed the button and then…

In the blink of an eye, both Oompa Loompas had been thrown clear across the room as the taffy puller's three enormous pulling-arms swung out of control. The taffy itself was flinging little bits everywhere. Veronica shrieked. Wonka just stood there, watching, a very intense look on his face. He watched the taffy, still wrapped about the pulling-arms, lashing like whips all around the machine. There was no way to even get close to the machine to turn it off.

"Yep. That one's definitely broken." Wonka said, mostly for Veronica's benefit, as if she couldn't already tell. Then he stood silent for a long time, as little bits of taffy flung off of the long whips, attaching themselves to the walls, the ceiling, Wonka's hat, Veronica's glasses. Finally, he took two steps toward the machine, just barely out of reach of the ever-growing taffy whips, lifted his cane by the middle, and threw it like a javelin. It hit the control panel squarely on a large red button labeled "OFF." Veronica stared as the machine slowed, stopped. She then looked over at Wonka, who went to retrieve his cane as if nothing extraordinary had happened. He began picking pieces of taffy off his hat, tasted one, then made a face and turned to Veronica.

"Eww. That one's _definitely_ broken." He looked at her for a moment, she was covered in little pink bits of taffy, then he picked one out of her hair, giggling. "Umm… you have… taffy all over you."

"I can see that, thank you." Veronica hissed.

"Well, I suppose I can do the rest on my own tomorrow." Wonka smiled cheerfully. "Unless you'd like to continue…"

"No… No. I think now would be a lovely time to stop." Veronica attempted to clear her glasses of little pink taffy specks. They didn't want to budge. "Lovely…"

"Good! Now, get your stuff and go home." Wonka continued to smile.

"Whaddya mean go home?" Veronica practically blew up. "In case you haven't noticed, I'm doing what you asked me to. I'm staying."

"No you're not."

"…Excuse me?"

"You can't just run away from your problems like that." Wonka said sensibly.

"YOU DID." Veronica shouted.

"No I didn't."

"You closed your factory for years!"

"Well now, I had just fired my entire staff. You don't expect me to run all these machines all by myself now, do you? I had to find new…impartial… employees."

Veronica opened her mouth to protest, then closed it again.

"That isn't why you closed your factory, to find new employees, and you know it." Veronica muttered.

"Be brave." Wonka continued on, ignoring her. "Face your fears. It builds character. That's what I did, and look at me!"

"I'll bet…"

"Go home. I'll still be here when you come back."

"Fine. Good night, Mr. Wonka." Veronica said sourly, finally pulling off the purple gloves and throwing them back at him. She turned and walked away without another word. Wonka watched her go.

"I do have a first name, you know!" He called after her.

Her frustrated scream echoed through the factory halls for the next hour.

A.N. **Lu Vox:** I am extremely honored by your request! I will give you permission to translate the story, with proper credit given, of course.

And I want to thank all of those who have reviewed this story so far, and its companion songfics! You have been AWESOME. You have kept me writing, night after night, even when inspiration didn't seem to want to come, and I truly owe what has come of this so far to you. This story started out as a joking response to the line "Don't touch that squirrel's nuts, it'll make him crazy!" in the movie... And the imagined response of an enamored Health Inspector, and with your support, it has become the monster that it now is! THANK YOU!


	16. Chapter 16

Every morning for the next two weeks, an unsigned letter arrived in Veronica's mailbox. They were counting down the days Veronica had to agree with the EHA and her father, before they seized her house. Every day, Veronica took her things and drove to Wonka's gates, screaming to be let in. Every day, she heard the same message.

"Go home. Face your fears! It builds character!" Wonka would broadcast over the factory loudspeakers.

Every day, Veronica contemplated driving straight through the factory gates… but she seriously doubted that her car would hold up to the impact.

She never unpacked, not once in two weeks. She supposedly had a month to just sit and get letters of warning before they would take away her house, the last true link to her mother. She had the photographs and the mementos stored in her car, but she grew up in this house. Sometimes she could still smell her mother's perfume, cookies baking in the oven, or spaghetti simmering on the stove. She could look at the old tan couch and see her mother and a much younger version of herself, in outrageous looking make-up, watching old movies on TV. Her mother had her hair rolled in enormous rollers, and even now Veronica knew, she was the most beautiful woman she had ever seen. Thinking about it now, she wondered why Mary Lightfoot had ever gotten involved with someone like Slugworth.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

Mary Lightfoot was nineteen years old and the new wife to an up and coming chocolatier. He was fifteen years older than she was, but he had always treated her like an equal. He had even shown her how to make the most delicious strawberry flavored, chocolate covered fudge. His name was Slugworth, and he was planning on introducing the world to this fudge just as soon as he could afford a little street-corner shop to sell it in. It was his claim to fame, and the fact that he had shared this secret with her impressed Mary very much. But life seemed to interrupt their plans, and soon a tiny baby girl named Veronica was taking up much of her mother's attention… and her father's money. By the time he had opened his little street-corner shop, several other budding candymakers were making their mark on the little British town. Slugworth spent so much time in the back rooms of his shop, as a result, that Mary Lightfoot no longer even knew the man she married. By the time Veronica had turned two, the couple had divorced. Slugworth moved into the apartment above his shop, leaving Mary and Veronica with the little flat. Years later, a young chocolatier named Wonka moved in down the street. He was shy, rarely coming out from his own back rooms, but he did on occasion… Mary Lightfoot happened to be in his shop on just such an occasion. She engaged the young man in conversation for hours, clearly a record for him, and he was very much taken with the woman he had met. She sold him the secret recipe for Slugworth's fudge, and promised to return. But on her second visit, the unthinkable happened. The young Wonka, so taken with Mary Lightfoot's beauty, fell to his knees proclaiming his everlasting devotion, begging her to marry him. But Mary couldn't live with another dedicated chocolatier. She rejected the boy and never again returned to the shop, instead sending her young daughter. Veronica, just five years old, came weekly to the shop to buy candy and fudge, far superior to her father's, and to see Willy Wonka. But Wonka, so stricken by rejection, never again ventured out of his shop's back rooms.

Slugworth, meanwhile, caught wind of his ex-wife's treachery. He vowed revenge on the young Wonka, and redoubled his efforts. By the time Wonka was building an empire, Slugworth was building an army. An army of spies, armed with the technology to steal all of Wonka's most closely guarded secrets.


	17. Chapter 17

For two weeks, Wonka had turned Veronica away, not even allowing her into his factory to visit, too afraid she would show up in those stiletto heels and convince him to let her stay. Something about those heels… He shivered, hoping never to have to be under that spell again, unless he allowed himself to be. But Wonka couldn't just leave Veronica out there alone. If she was going to safeguard his secrets, he would have to give her some further sort of encouragement. So he bundled himself up as tightly as humanly possible, so that no more skin than that between his hat and the many scarves piled up around his face showed. Then, he announced to the factory at large that he was going out. All production stopped for a good five minutes as shocked silence turned to uproarious laughter on the Oompa Loompas' part. Finally, with an awkward clearing of the throat, Wonka turned and walked out the front doors. Everyone resumed working, quite embarrassed that he had actually been serious.

He walked down the long, straight road that led from the factory, somewhat hoping that he would simply know the way to Veronica's house. It was roughly five in the morning, snowing and dark, but Wonka walked on as if this were perfectly normal. His heeled boots clicked on the cobblestones, and his velvet blue eyes stared out from behind a pair of enormous sunglasses. He couldn't really see, what with the combination of morning darkness and sunglasses, but it didn't seem to matter. He was gravitating toward the location of his old shop, and he let his feet take him there. The place looked good. Whoever owned it now was keeping it in lovely condition. Then he saw it.

Veronica's old tan car, just down the street. Wonka lifted his sunglasses, just to be sure. Yes, that was definitely Veronica's car, it was piled with her belongings and sitting expectantly on the street, as if waiting for a long trip somewhere. Wonka walked up her front steps and pulled out his enormous keyring. Why bother to knock? Besides, the best kind of prize is a surprise! He shuffled through the keys a few times, trying one or the other, finally settling on a small brass one. This key opened the door, much to Wonka's satisfaction, and he strode inside, looking about at the bare walls. He poked through cupboards, and opened doors quietly, finally stumbling upon Veronica's room. She was asleep on her bed in yet another bare room. There were blankets on the bed, but nothing was tucked in, as if she were simply camping out here. There was the picture of Veronica and her mother, and the chocolate rose sitting on her bedside table. Wonka looked at the picture. That woman looked awfully familiar… But then, she looked quite like Veronica. He snorted slightly at the sight of the chocolate rose. That was for eating, not decoration, it was such a waste to just let it sit there, going bad. Perhaps he should work more on making them wilt if they got too old… Finally, his eyes settled back on Veronica. She was sleeping so soundly, and looked so comfortable, for being tangled in the mess of blankets. He had never felt quite so regretful at having to wake her up before. He took a deep breath and hesitated. The whole room… this whole place carried faintly the same quality that his purple comforter had now long since lost. He looked curiously at the sleeping girl in front of him. It had something to do with her, that he had known for a long time. But what was it? Finally, he stopped himself from wandering too far into contemplation and sat down silently on the edge of the bed. He tapped her on the nose and assumed an almost natural smile.

"Wake up, sleepyhead!" He said brightly. Veronica's eyes fluttered open. She shrieked and flew off the other side of the bed.

"How did you get in here?" She said, still very loud and very high-pitched.

"I have a key." Wonka said, holding up the keyring. It jingled mockingly. Veronica, panting, collapsed back on the bed.

"And where did you get a key from?"

Wonka thought about this for a long time. Finally, he turned to her with a bemused smile.

"I don't know."

"Wonderful. Why are you here? You won't even let me in the gates for two weeks, and then you ambush me in my own house?"

"Yeah, about that. This place is really boring!" Wonka said, gesturing at the bare walls.

"That's because I haven't unpacked my car. I'm waiting for the day they throw me out, so I can come live with you and 'learn the secrets of candymaking.'" Veronica said sarcastically. "Here, look." She handed him a large stack of unsigned letters, all counting down the days until she would no longer live here. Wonka read through them all, amazingly quickly, and then turned back to her.

"And… you haven't said anything?"

"To who? I wouldn't even know where to go to tell them I changed my mind!" Veronica whined. At Wonka's look of horror, she added quickly "But I haven't changed my mind…"

Wonka sighed, relieved.

"I can't do anything, just sit and wait, and that's the hardest part. All my memories of my mother are in this house. It's not just the pictures and material things, I can take those with me. But… sitting here… I can remember the night of my junior prom. The first night I ever wore those stiletto heels…" at this remark, Wonka shivered. Veronica grinned and continued.

"Even then, I was sixteen years old, I had a date… some creep from the baseball team… but even then I dreamed that…" She turned red and twisted her blankets in her hands. "I dreamed that I could have met you. Asked you…" She wasn't crying, but she sounded like she was about to. "Even then I could dream. My mother didn't get sick until I was eighteen… But then, it seemed like no time before… And then she was gone and I was alone and I had to go work for that horrible agency… I'm sorry."

"For what?" Wonka asked.

"For… I don't know… unloading all my problems on you. You know, you're still like nothing I ever could have imagined." She smiled, trying her very hardest not to cry. She seemed to do that a lot around Wonka…

He, on the other hand, didn't seem to mind if she started crying. Her nose went all red, and she hid behind a tissue until she was so distraught that the tissue was crumpled and shredded and she couldn't hide anymore. And then she would start to tremble and would look so pitiful and as weak as a reed in the wind that he would just have to move closer and hug her. Of course then she would be crying all over his coat, and he would never be able to get out all the tears and snot and… Stop that!

Damn those dusty mind-corners.

But Veronica held her dignity and did not shed a tear. She cast about her mind for a new subject. Anything to get her mind off losing this house…

"So… ummm… After Valentine's Day… Why did you kiss me?"

The question hit Wonka like a brick in the face. WHAT? Since when were we asking questions about this? He thought frantically.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time." He said, feigning placidity.

"And then… you just ran away?" Veronica smiled slightly, seeing the forced look on his face. The strain in his voice made it abundantly obvious that she had stumbled upon just the right subject.

"Yeah, well, about that…" There was a pause, then Wonka looked up triumphantly and exclaimed "Mumbler!"

"I'm not gonna buy that, and you know it." Veronica said slickly.

"Ok, well, I was scared. I didn't want to prolong an awkward moment. You'd have done the same." Wonka said quickly, sincerely hoping she hadn't heard the whole statement.

"Scared? Did the great and infallible Willy Wonka just admit to being scared?" Veronica asked, Cheshire Cat grin spreading across her face.

"Unfortunately, yes." Wonka mumbled.

"Hmmm… well then…" Veronica said, calculating her next move. "Would you be scared if I did this?" She took one of his gloved hands and kissed it lightly.

"No…" Wonka said, looking at her uncertainly. What was she up to?

"Good. Well, how about this?" She pulled off the glove, one finger at a time, and flung it over her shoulder, then bent to kiss the back of his bare hand.

"Maybe a little?" Wonka said quietly.

"Hmmm… well then, what about… this?" Veronica was now kneeling on the edge of her bed, very close to the chocolatier. She turned down his high collar, just slightly, and kissed his neck. He shivered.

"More than that last one, yeah." Wonka whispered.

"Interesting. Well, what about this?" And she leaned in to kiss his lips, but when she was but a fraction of an inch away, he leapt from the bed, defensively.

"Yes, YES! Now, it's getting late, I have to go. There's work to do. Sorry…"

"That's right, run away again!" Veronica said mockingly. She hoped that this would insult Wonka's ego enough to keep him there a few minutes longer. She was pleasantly rewarded when he turned back to her, eyes alight.

"I am NOT." He said indignantly. "I'm very busy, you know that."

"Then let me come back with you. I'll help. I promise." She fluttered her eyelashes.

"I thought you said you couldn't boil water without burning it." Wonka said sharply. "Besides, you have to face your fears!" And he turned again to stride out of the room. Veronica lunged off the bed like a cat and caught him around the ankles. He fell in a heap in her doorway, with her still clutching at his feet.

"But I'm tired of being here alone! I only depress myself…" Veronica said. There was a long, awkward silence following this, as both of them were still lying in a heap on the floor. Wonka's hat had rolled out into the front room, and Veronica was laughing inside. He really did look much better with the hat on his head…

"Pleeeease?" Veronica said, saccharine-sweet. "Please Willy, for me?"

He just stared back at her. She was upside down, as was the rest of the room. He was lying on his shoulder, half upside down against the doorframe. She was still grabbing hold of his one ankle, in a desperate attempt at keeping him here. He sighed.

"This is against my better judgment, and my better judgment is always right… That's why it's better." He said at length.

"WHEE!" Veronica leapt up, clapping and jumping. She was as happy as a kid in a candy store… no, a candy factory, and after two weeks, she was finally going back. Maybe this time she could stay…

"But you aren't staying. You have to face your fears!" Wonka insisted.

"That's what you think…" Veronica muttered happily under her breath.


	18. Chapter 18

Veronica skipped and danced and giggled all the way back to the factory. The sky was growing light now, and there were a few people on the streets, just beginning the endless stream of men and women on their way to work. A few stared at the unusual sight, Veronica in jeans, mismatched socks, and her best coat, and Wonka, bundled to the ears against the elements he so rarely faced. A very light, wet snow was falling, catching in Veronica's hair for just a moment before melting away. It looked like a veil of spun sugar, just barely there, a dream, then gone. Wonka watched her through his sunglasses. She was so bizarrely happy… What could possibly be making her so happy, they were just going back to do routine work… But she stood out in the street in the light of the strengthening sun, and spun about, dancing, looking up at the sky and letting snowflakes land on the tip of her nose. She ran her hands through her snow-damp hair and sighed. For the first time in two weeks, life would be good again. She wouldn't have to worry until she went home… and maybe that would be never.

Twice, Wonka slipped on the wet cobblestones. He never lost his balance, nor his dignity, but Veronica giggled, watching him slide on by. She leapt onto a long stretch of ice near the gutters and slid, skating elegantly. She hadn't had this much fun since… who knew when? And winter was just beginning to give way to spring, there wouldn't be another chance to do this until next year.

And then a large, wet snowball hit Wonka squarely in the back of the head. Well… in the scarves that carefully and meticulously protected the back of his head and his precious, perfect hair from the weather. He turned around, ungainly and yet somehow stately in all those layers, bizarre sunglasses tilted down on his nose, to see Veronica standing there, unabashed, another large, dripping snowball in her hand. He grinned. Veronica couldn't see this, for all the scarves, but she knew enough to duck when a chunk of slush came flying her way. And then she was off, running for the factory gates. She knew there would be an almost endless supply of snow there, all freshly plowed and piled against the inner wall. Wonka followed, much more slowly and unsteadily, unused to walking on such a wet and slippery surface. Veronica greeted him at the gates with a snowball that completely obscured the lenses of his sunglasses. He pulled them off and, quickly shedding several of the scarves too, seized another chunk of snow and hurled it at Veronica. This one didn't miss, but hit her in the shoulder, knocking her off balance and into one of the snowbanks. Satisfied, Wonka turned to the main doors, shedding his coat and bundling it with the scarves. For a moment, Veronica was afraid he was simply going to retreat in from the cold. But then he flung the extra articles on the steps and came running back, now free of his cane, outer coat, glasses, and all but one of the scarves. He bore no wintry weapon and it soon became inexorably clear what he was about to do. With a grin of pure evil, he leapt into the snowbank, just inches from Veronica. She shrieked and clambered away, flinging snow into his face. He whipped off his last scarf and flung it around her, pulling her back and immediately stuffing gloved handfuls of snow down the back of her coat. With a scream of mingled delight and shock, Veronica ducked the scarf and ran off, hiding behind a large pile of snow. She watched him advance toward her hiding spot, all the while scrabbling up the pile. He was right there, about to jump round and catch her off guard when she stood up.

"Looking for me?" She grinned, and then flopped into the snow, sliding all the way down the pile and running smack into Wonka, dragging them both into another snowbank. His hair was now tangled and stuck to his face, his wine-colored frock coat now a deep burgundy, and dripping wet. His hat was somehow still on his head, but Veronica vowed to change that and, quick as lightning, whipped it off his head, filled it with wet snow, and dumped it back on him, watching the snow slide down his face, collecting on his shoulders, and melting down his back. She watched him wince and shiver. That was payback for all the snow down HER back! His eyes narrowed at her for a moment, but he was still smiling. His chest rose and fell rapidly, and his breath was coming in puffs of fog. Veronica panted, soaking wet and freezing, she didn't even have a change of clothes. But it didn't matter. She had had a snowball fight for the first time since her mother had gotten sick, and it was wonderful. If only her mother knew she had had a snowball fight with Willy Wonka… If she could have told that to her five year old self, she might just have died of glee. She suddenly became conscious that Wonka was still watching her intently, expectant smile on his face. He leaned towards her. He was going to kiss her… The chicken wouldn't even let her kiss him a half hour ago and now…

He was barely millimeters away, she could feel his breath condensing on her cheeks, and then… He shoved a handful of snow down her back and ran away, giggling gleefully.

"WILLY WONKA, YOU CAN'T DO THAT TO ME!" Veronica roared, picking up the biggest chunk of snow she could carry and heaving it at him. It missed him by a mile, splattering on the bare ground. He watched her, hurling chunk after enormous chunk of snow in his general direction. None came even close enough for him to have to duck. Finally, she collapsed back into the snow, incensed, but utterly spent.

"I'm cold…" She muttered.

"I win!" Wonka grinned, approaching her. He sat down in the snow beside her, knees practically curled to his chest. He brushed a few stray hairs out of his face and cocked his head at her. She had closed her eyes and was breathing steadily, clouds of fog rising into the air and dissipating.

"'Ronica?" She opened her eyes in response to this unusual address.

"What are we?" She said at length.

"We're human beings, silly." Wonka smiled, not understanding.

"No… I mean, you and me. What are we?"

"I just told you…" Wonka said slowly.

"Stop that, you're just evading the subject." Veronica said quietly, looking up at the greyish sky. "Are we just the chocolatier and the health inspector, friends, what?" Wonka didn't answer her, so she just pressed on. "I mean… friends should know something about each other. I don't know anything about you."

"Poppycock. You know lots of things about me. I like chocolate, my favorite color is purple, I'm not a fan of holidays… until recently." Wonka said dismissively.

"But I don't know what makes you tick. You seem to know everything about me..."

"Not… everything." Wonka said, looking down at her. "I don't know your favorite ice cream flavor, or… umm… I don't know… well, lots of things." He was lying and Veronica knew it. Somehow, he was an impeccable judge of character…

"But that doesn't tell me what this is…" Veronica said, still staring up at the snowy sky.

"This? This is snow…" Wonka said with a feeble giggle, his weakest attempt ever at humor.

"Willy…" Veronica said sharply, then sighed.

"Well, what do you want?" It was such an unexpected question. There were so many possible answers, ranging from the basic and mundane to the most elaborate. But Veronica thought of none of these.

"You." Burst from her lips before she had time to censor the thought. Wonka looked down at her, startled. That had definitely not been the answer he expected. And finally, her eyes met his, almost frightened but level.


	19. Chapter 19

Oh my God, Veronica, what did you just do? The thought reverberated in her mind for some time. She and Wonka were still sitting out in the snowbank, but the cold was all but forgotten. She was distantly aware that he had removed his hat, and was trying to brush the remainder of the wet snow out of it. Finally, he popped it back on his head with a smile.

"Well, come on! We can't afford to dilly or dally, now can we? We have work to do!" He said, somewhat overbrightly. He seized Veronica by the wrist and pulled her to her feet, leading her to the door. Veronica was numb. She had just dropped a bombshell, on herself as much as on him, and he was just going to try and shrug it off and pretend everything was fine?

"Wait." Veronica stammered, pulling him to a halt.

"We won't get anything done if you don't move those feet!" Wonka said, false grin plastered on his cheeks.

"I don't care if we sit out in this snowbank all day. You're gonna talk to me." Veronica insisted. "Now, I don't know about you, but I'm a little weirded out by that last conversation."

"Poppycock." Wonka said cheerfully, yanking her forward.

"Willy…"

"Veronica…" He imitated her… poorly. "I have work to do, are you coming, or do I have to send you home?"

"I don't know! You tell me."

"Are ya gonna help, or just stand there psychoanalyzing the past half hour?" Wonka shot back. His eyes were boring into her.

"Wouldn't it help if I psychoanalyzed?"

"Nope. What's done is done and you can't change that, not one little bit. So if you're gonna come with me, you'd better just put it out of mind. We've got a busy day ahead of us!" And once again, he yanked on her wrist and pulled her up the steps and into the factory.

"By the way, you're gonna want to change into something dry. Of course… I could just throw you into the room where we shrink-wrap all the fancy shmancy boxed chocolates… but you'd come out with a nasty sunburn." He giggled, then walked away, leaving her in the front foyer alone. Ten minutes later he was back, dry and neat, with not a hair out of place, carrying a large box in his arms.

"Here. It's just a prototype, and no guarantees it'll fit you, but try it on!" And Wonka steered her to the guestroom. Soon after, she stepped out, wearing a duplicate of the clothes she had originally visited the factory in.

"Oh good! It fits. Nothing's melting, ripped?" Wonka looked her up and down, made her turn in a circle like a model on the runway, and then smiled.

"Ummm… why did you have a copy of my uniform?" Veronica asked.

"Well, I had to test it on somebody!" Wonka grinned.

"And what exactly is this made of?" Veronica indicated the skirt. To her surprise, in response, Wonka popped the top button off her shirt and stuck it in his mouth. Well, buttoning that top button always made her look stuffy anyway…

"Spun sugar. Isn't it just neat, keen, super-cool, and groovy?"

"No… it's creepy. Why would I want to eat my clothes?"

"Well, my idea wasn't originally for whole clothes." Wonka smiled. "But I just HAD to find out if it was possible. Mostly I wanted to know about things like… zippers."

"…Zippers?"

"Yeah, you know, for those kids that suck on the zipper on their winter coats. When they have a scarf on and… Am I the only one that ever did that?" Wonka asked, sheepishly. "Charlie may just have been humoring me when he said it was a good idea…" He looked thoughtfully at Veronica for a moment.

Veronica was staring at the candymaker. He really was hopeless…

"If the zipper's made of sugar and you eat the zipper pull off, how are you supposed to undo it?" She asked dryly.

"I dunno!" Wonka said brightly. "We haven't gotten that far in tests yet!"

Veronica shook her head. Wonka snatched her by the wrist and pulled her off.

"Well, come on. Time to go, we don't have all day… Well, we do have all day, but we need to spend it working!" Wonka smiled. "Tell me if anything starts melting." He added, with just a hint of a sinister glint to his eye.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

Veronica managed to make it through the day in the spun sugar clothing. She experienced no wardrobe malfunctions, nothing melted, but Wonka had the decidedly bad habit of snatching bits of extra candy from her ensemble. By the end of the day he had apparently decided that a high collared look just didn't suit Veronica, for he was slowly and meticulously ripping off bits of the collar. By dinner time, he led her back to the guestroom, made her change back into the clothes she arrived in, (Now dry) and sat at a table for the rest of the day, snipping off bits of the sugar fabric and staring at his creation, scratching his chin. Finally, when he made Veronica model it again, the skirt was a good six inches shorter, no longer down to her knees, and the shirt had had a complete makeover. He had apparently melted the entire front and reshaped it so that there were no more buttons, and it had a rather dramatic V-neckline.

"Wonka meets Armani?" Veronica grinned as she modeled the clothes again.

"What's an Armani?" Wonka asked. Veronica shook her head.

"You can keep those. I'd recommend an airtight container in the fridge for no more than a month, but… I guess it's up to you."

Veronica smiled. What was she going to do with spun sugar clothes? But she took them home anyway.


	20. Chapter 20

The days were quickly winding down to Easter. Wonka was now far too busy to take a visit outside the factory, and Veronica knew better than to try and hold his attention now. The actual production phase was winding down, as the last frantic shipments of chocolate were making their way to shops all around the world, but Veronica now had an extremely clear idea of just how much work would be going on right up until the night before the holiday. But it didn't stop the fact that her house was just about the most depressing place on earth for her to be. In fact, just that morning she had received a letter telling her that she had ten more days to agree to smuggle out Wonka's secrets, or her mother's house would be lost to her forever. She needed to go out, there was no point in staying inside, staring at the room where she and her mother had had morning pillow fights, the rarely used kitchen that had once seen the pair baking cookies… So Veronica bundled up and went out for a walk.

She seemed to be doing that quite a lot now, just walking the streets of the little British town, going nowhere in particular, and just thinking in silence. Once in a great while, these walks led her to the gates of Wonka's factory, but she never knocked to be let in. She preferred to walk alone at times like this, not dragged forward by the persistent candymaker. On this walk, however, Veronica immediately sensed that she was not as alone as she would have liked.

"Shouldn't you be making chocolate for the holidays?" She asked sourly to no one in particular. Slugworth stepped out of the shadows that lingered between houses and joined her, malice glinting in his cold dark eyes.

"Darling girl, you know as well as I do that I am not the owner of an empire of chocolate. I have no need to forget my priorities and sit alone with my machinery." He stepped closer to Veronica, and she stepped away with a snort. "What have you got for me?"

"What do you think I've got for you?" Veronica hissed.

"That's a pity… Well, Easter is just around the corner. I suppose you have plans… Plans that involve the world's largest chocolate factory? Think about it. No one will be working that day. It would be so easy to just… slip out with something. Not even your dear Wonka would notice. You wouldn't have to hurt him, and you could stay in your mother's beautiful little flat. Wouldn't you like that?"

"I couldn't do that. I wouldn't…" Veronica whispered.

"You would rather give up all your mother fought for, all those years, just to spare him? Ahh… I see. Well, then, little one, you may tell Wonka that once we've taken your house, there will be nothing left that we have the power to take from you… but we can take you. And once we do, he will have a ransom to pay. I assume he feels the same about you…" Slugworth's crooked smile broadened, "As you do for him?"

Veronica said nothing, but walked on in silence, not looking at the man beside her.

"You have ten days, child. And after that, who knows when someone will be around to collect you?" He grinned sourly and walked away, leaving Veronica alone in the middle of the street.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

This time, Veronica did not run off immediately to seek shelter at the chocolate factory. What Slugworth had said had shaken her, and he had known it. Whatever happened, Veronica could not tell Wonka. If she did… It would be as good as asking him to choose what of his inventions he would most rather give away in exchange for her freedom. There was no way she could do that to him.

It struck her as she walked the streets alone that she didn't, in fact, have any plans for Easter. As a matter of fact, Wonka hadn't mentioned the upcoming holiday at all except to say that he was extraordinarily busy. And he definitely hadn't spoken to her lately. Not even Charlie had come around to visit, and he had been doing that from time to time since she had met them. He, too, was working round the clock. Veronica sighed. This must have been how her mother felt… Attached to a man who loved his work more than anything.

As the last few days wore down to Easter, Veronica found herself growing more and more depressed. A letter, a note, delivered by an Oompa Loompa, by Charlie on his way to school, anything… but nothing came. And the mail she DID get was becoming more and more ominous, containing vague warnings and suggestions that she keep a sharp eye peeled for suspicious characters on the streets. They were trying to frighten her, and they were doing a heck of a job. By the night before Easter, Veronica wouldn't even go out at night.

She fell asleep that night, practically in tears. Had she really frightened Wonka that badly? He hadn't acted afraid, but then again, he hadn't reacted to her little slip at all. With time to think, had he changed his mind about having her around? After all, tomorrow was a holiday. He hated to spend holidays alone. Did he suddenly decide that spending a holiday alone was preferable to one with her? Valentine's Day hadn't been that bad. And hadn't it been HE who had made the advances then? Veronica fell into an uneasy, light sleep, tossing and turning most of the night.


	21. Chapter 21

Easter morning saw Veronica waking a little later than usual. Her pillow was hopelessly stained from eyeliner and mascara, as she had cried herself to sleep. She saw this and shook her head. And then she saw it, glinting in the morning sunlight on her pillow beside her. A small, foil wrapped chocolate egg.

"I haven't gotten a visit from the Easter Bunny since my mother died…" She said. Her heart gave a leap. The egg was wrapped in a flamboyant purple with a large golden W on it. He had been here. She unwrapped the egg. There, imprinted on the wrapper:

_Be at the factory, ASAP._

_-WW_

Veronica jumped out of bed. She was already later than usual! She scrambled towards the door… and slipped, falling face first onto the floor. Another purple, foil-wrapped egg rolled by. She snatched it up and sat up, unwrapping this one too.

_P.S. Wear something nice._

_-WW_

Something nice? She trotted to her closet and wrenched open the doors. And then she screamed.

A five foot tall chocolate rabbit stood in the center of her closet, wrapped in purple foil and adorned with a large silver W pin. Was she supposed to unwrap this too? She couldn't very well eat it now… She could almost hear Wonka giggling at the thought. Wait a minute…

She COULD hear Wonka giggling…

Veronica shrieked and leapt back from her closet, clutching at her chest as Wonka popped up from behind the rabbit, idiot grin plastered across his face.

"Didja like it?" He asked, clambering out of her closet, cane tapping on the wood floor.

"It was a surprise, for sure…" Veronica wheezed, collapsing back on the corner of her bed.

"The best kind of prize is a surprise!" Wonka beamed. Veronica couldn't help grinning as well.

"I was afraid… I thought I'd be spending the holiday alone." Veronica said quietly, looking at her feet.

"Looks like it." Wonka said, pointing with his cane at the stained pillow. "Well, come on, hurry up, we have—"

"Work to do?" Veronica asked. She was beginning to see signs of predictability in this previously unpredictable man.

"No, silly! It's Easter! We have a party to get to!" Wonka grinned brightly. So much for predictability…

And with that, he seized Veronica by the wrist and pulled her off the bed. A half hour later, they were walking down the street, like some fine gentleman and his lady in the old days, Veronica thought. Wonka was wearing his usual dress, noticeably lacking his heavy outdoor coat and layers of scarves, not to mention the garishly huge sunglasses. Veronica was clad in a knee length lavender skirt and a cream colored, sleeveless top. The weather was still chill, so she carried a cream colored sweater with her as well. About halfway back to the factory, after again apparently reading Veronica's mind, Wonka offered her his arm. She took it, and in doing so could almost imagine them strolling into Victorian Britain. Neither of the pair noticed the thin man, lurking in the shadows. This apparition grinned broadly and disappeared.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

"Look who I brought to the party? Isn't it great? Everyone's back together again, like a great big, happy f-family!" Wonka beamed around at everyone. The Oompa Loompas, the Buckets, Veronica and Wonka had all assembled in paradise, the biggest room in the factory. Veronica noticed that the river looked a little low on chocolate, but other than that, this room had not suffered the gutting that most other rooms would have on a holiday like Easter. How easy it would be for her just to smuggle out a little marshmallow flower… NO. She wouldn't do that. Not when Wonka had been so gracious as to bring her back for a party. She couldn't just stab him in the back.

"So… Everyone enjoy yourselves!" Wonka grinned, apparently at a loss for anything else to say or do. It was clear that he had never thrown or, most likely, attended a real party in his lifetime. Veronica patted him on the shoulder and smiled, walking away with Charlie and his parents.

"So… How are we going to…"

"Help Mr. Wonka?" Charlie finished.

"Precisely. I have a feeling he's been planning this for awhile but…"

"But he's been so busy with everything else, he hasn't put much thought or research into what he's doing here?"

"Thank you Charlie. It's abundantly clear that we're thinking on the same wavelength." Veronica smiled. Charlie looked a little sheepish.

"Well," Began Mrs. Bucket, "I suppose we could look to the Oompa Loompas for some form of entertainment… although their songs tend to be a little…"

"Macabre." Charlie said with an air of finality.

"And where does an eleven year old learn words like 'macabre'?" Veronica asked. "Besides, that might be a little better suited for Halloween."

"Why don't you talk to him, Veronica?" Mr. Bucket suggested. "Maybe he'll let slip what he was planning."

"But…" Veronica began. She had no idea what to say to him at a time like this… And what could she possibly say to get him to reveal his holiday surprise without hurting his feelings in the process?

"You'll be fine, Miss Veronica." Charlie grinned. Veronica sometimes got the impression that Wonka had been teaching his young protégé how to read her mind as well. She sighed and left the huddle.

"Willy?" She came back to where Wonka was standing, still watching to see that his guests were indeed enjoying themselves. Of course, most of the Oompa Loompas had dispersed, going back to their own business, and the Buckets were still gathered over by the corner of their house, being snowed on by the perpetual powdered sugar snowfall and grinning innocently.

"Having fun? Isn't it neat?" Wonka smiled.

"Ummm… to what are you referring?" Veronica asked cautiously.

"The party silly!" Wonka said, cocking his head and looking at her somewhat sideways, like a bizarre purple bird.

"Uhh… yes. The party's wonderful. Tell me, what did you have planned for today?"

"I dunno. I was kinda hoping you could tell me." Wonka whispered, for the first time casting a bit of an uneasy look at the Buckets. They were now about ankle deep in powdered sugar and it was piling up on their heads. They still hadn't moved.

"Me?" Veronica asked.

"Well, yeah. You've actually had a party before, right? Please tell me you've had a party before…"

"Yes, fortunately for you, I have had a party before. Just not an Easter party. Usually, I spend Easter alone… I used to visit my grandparents, we'd bring dinner. When I was really young, maybe we'd have an Easter egg hunt?" Veronica said quietly.

"Easter egg hunt?" Wonka asked. "Yeah…"

"Willy, that would involve someone hiding eggs. Have you even got any?"

"Of course I do. I'll be back shortly."

And true to his word, Wonka was indeed back shortly. Within about five minutes he had wandered away from Veronica, left paradise, and then came back, looking extremely pleased with himself.

"Ok. You can go find 'em now." Wonka said, without any other sort of explanation. The Buckets looked a little confused. The Oompa Loompas were no longer even listening, for they had all gone back to their usual activities.

"Easter eggs." Veronica chuckled, attempting to explain. She cleared her throat uneasily then leaned closer to Wonka and whispered into his ear.

"It took you five minutes?"

"Of course it did. It was easy hiding them. The hard part'll be finding them." He grinned, tapped her on the nose with the tip of one purple gloved finger, and walked away.

"You may search the entire factory. Whoever finds the most… Well, I guess they'll have a lot of chocolate eggs!" Wonka smiled, shooing the Buckets and Veronica away.

As it turned out, it was extremely difficult to find the little chocolate eggs dispersed throughout the factory. Wonka was following Veronica on her search, egging her on, (Sorry about the bad pun!) and giggling whenever she would look in a wrong spot. An hour passed and Veronica had found but five of the little chocolate eggs. She wondered how many Wonka had hidden, and how well the Buckets were faring.

It was now long past lunchtime and Veronica was getting tired of searching in vain. She and Wonka had split her cache of eggs for lunch… there were only eight, but they were delicious nonetheless, and then continued the search. Every time Veronica would get to the verge of giving up, Wonka would find some way to convince her to continue. Finally, she sensed a change in the chocolatier. She was very much exhausted of her fruitless search, but Wonka seemed to be about to explode for glee. He was tapping his cane absentmindedly on the floor and kept whistling odd tunes, unable to contain himself any longer. Finally, Veronica looked up. The door she was standing in front of bore a large label:

"Chocolate Egg Room"

It couldn't be. It was too good to be true, right? That he would hide chocolate eggs in their own room? It was against Veronica's better judgment to open that door. She was just bound to get a nasty surprise on the other side… But with a sigh, she opened it anyway. Wonka looked like he could die of anticipation as the door swung open and…

Veronica was instantaneously buried in an avalanche of little chocolate eggs. Unfortunately, so was Wonka, so he couldn't even fish her out when they stopped tumbling out of the room. Veronica wondered where he had gotten off to, she could barely see, being at the bottom of a mountain of chocolate eggs. And then she felt him move. He was apparently attempting to find the floor with his cane. And he was literally right on top of her.

"Willy!" She hissed. The movement didn't cease. "Willy, stop that, or you're going to poke my eye out!" The jabbing of the cane ceased, traded for a more delicate prodding. They both eventually heard it strike floor.

"Ok, that's lovely, you found the floor, now get off me!" Veronica said, blindly shoving at him. He deftly grabbed her hand as it swam through the chocolate eggs, just inches from his face.

"You win!" He said cheerfully. "But there's one little eensy unforeseen problem."

"What. What problem?" Veronica hissed.

"I can't move."

"What do you mean you can't move? You found which way is down, now just--" She shifted her weight, trying to push against the layer of eggs beneath them, but they just shifted with her. He was right. They were stuck.

"This is lovely, Willy. Just peachy. You realize we're stuck here until someone else finds us, right? And then there's no guarantee they'll figure out we're stuck in here. Not to mention that we're bound to run out of oxygen shortly…"

Wonka giggled.

"And what, pray tell, is so boundlessly hilarious that you find it necessary to be laughing at a time like this?" Veronica growled.

"I dunno." Wonka said cheerfully into the darkness. He was still holding her hand, which was still only inches away from his face. It occurred to her that he saw a lot better in darkness than she did. They were separated by a layer of eggs, for the most part, but his right shoulder was definitely pressed right against her collarbone, and his elbow was sort of jabbing her in the stomach. There was a long, uncomfortable silence.

"Well, this is fun!" Wonka finally said. He seemed to have figured out some sort of swimming technique for clearing away the eggs from his face, making it easier to breathe. She felt him shift, just centimeters above her, and then…

The whole pile of eggs shifted uncomfortably. Most of the eggs separating the two of them rolled away, and Veronica was left with a very sheepish looking Wonka staring her in the face and lying directly on top of her.

"And just when we thought things couldn't get any more uncomfortable…" Veronica sighed.

"Actually, you're much more comfortable than a bunch of little chocolate eggs." Wonka said sensibly. If Veronica could have slapped him, she would have. But she couldn't move that quickly. Her arm was still stuck straight up, caught in the chocolate. Slowly and carefully she pulled it down, only to find she had nowhere to put it, Wonka's shoulder would have been in the way. So she put it around his neck instead. She felt the blood rush to his cheeks, the heat radiating from his face. He was blushing?

"I… wouldn't move around much more, or things are bound to get much more uncomfortable…" Wonka whispered. It was Veronica's turn to flush a deep shade of red. This was followed by another long, uncomfortable silence, aside from the gentle rustling of the foil wrapped eggs. The two had now been staring each other in the face for over five minutes. Veronica couldn't help wondering which one was going to suffocate first? Probably her, from his added weight pressing on her chest. A thought rose into the forefront of her mind, if she was going to suffocate and die… But she couldn't do that. It would scare him to death.

Wonka was staring into Veronica's storm grey eyes. They were very dark right now, but what would he expect, being buried under a good three feet of chocolate eggs? Her breathing was getting a little shallow, she was worried, that much was certain. He could feel her chest rise and fall in tandem with his own. She had been right. This was getting quite awkward. He wished she would say something. And then it struck him. Maybe she was right, and they would run out of oxygen. If she suffocated, that would be terrible. Not at all what he had planned for Easter. The little cartoonish image of him sweeping her off her feet with a kiss came back, for the first time since the Valentine's Day fiasco. That was preposterous, he thought. He could hardly sweep her off her feet, she wasn't on her feet to begin with. But that didn't change the fact that they had but one little purple-foil wrapped egg jammed between their lips. And one between their foreheads, but that was just insanity. If he tried to kiss her forehead, all the eggs would shift again, and who knows where they'd end up? He shifted, just slightly, trying to knock the egg out from between their faces. It rolled off the side of Veronica's cheek, and he suppressed a giggle.

"Better?" He asked. It was definitely easier to breathe without a candy persistently trying to convince you to eat it… Especially when it was still wrapped. Veronica sighed and tried to nod, but the eggs around them shifted menacingly. She was very conscious that it was getting quite warm in their little chocolate tomb. She hoped they would get out soon. Wonka was shifting, tilting his head from side to side carefully, a little uncomfortably. What was he doing? Trying to make a little more airspace? Veronica's eyes had adjusted to the darkness. She saw the chocolate around her shift slightly and realized that he had found some way to slip his arms over her shoulders. When had that happened? They had previously been pinned to his sides. She realized what he was up to. Oh no… he wasn't going to get there first, not again. She raised her head, just a little, and brushed her lips against his. It wasn't quite a kiss, but she had won, nonetheless. Wonka looked stunned.

"I win." Veronica whispered gleefully. Wonka smiled, that rare, flattering smile. His eyes were almost black in the darkness. He had started to shake slightly, or was that her? She couldn't tell. He tried his hardest to give her a little squeeze, and kissed her in return. She was definitely shaking now. She managed to finally pull her other arm around his neck and squeezed back. He gave a little snort and kissed her a little more hungrily this time. After all those years of loving nothing but chocolate, Veronica thought briefly. And suddenly, the chocolate eggs began to shift again. And then next thing she knew, the pair was squinting in the bright factory light, Wonka still on top of Veronica, with chocolate eggs all around them, still partially in a kiss, Veronica biting Wonka's bottom lip, too stunned to move, as the Buckets and at least twelve Oompa Loompas stood, frozen, staring back.

"Happy Easter everyone?" Wonka finally managed to whimper.


	22. Chapter 22

It was a good five minutes before either Wonka or Veronica made a move to get off the floor. They both, slowly, became extremely conscious that he was still on top of her, and when it finally hit him, Wonka practically leapt to his feet, smoothing his frock coat and fishing his cane and hat out of the pile of eggs. Next he turned and pulled Veronica up off the floor. She swayed slightly as the blood rushed out of her head, and she leaned rather heavily on Wonka's shoulder, head spinning. The Buckets were still looking at them. The Oompa Loompas had just finished making an intricate series of hand gestures, and one of them ran off, presumably to spread the latest gossip. Charlie looked an odd combination of revolted and highly amused. Mrs. Bucket had turned red, sympathy embarrassment for the two, and Mr. Bucket finally tried to ignore what he had seen and looked at the ceiling, whistling.

"We should really get this mess cleaned up…" muttered Wonka. Veronica nodded fervently in agreement.

The mood had barely changed by dinnertime. Mrs. Bucket had whipped up a delicious smelling Easter supper, and everyone gathered in the little house in paradise to eat, but the meal was conducted in a silence that was starkly different from most mealtimes. Wonka had the distinct feeling that this uncomfortable silence wouldn't go away soon enough. Veronica was red faced to the point that her ears might have been radioactive as she nibbled on ham. Charlie was barely touching his food, but instead was staring pointedly away from both his mentor and Veronica, stricken. Veronica had the impression that Charlie could still see the events in the hallway playing out in his mind like a video on repeat. In any case, she certainly could.

She wanted very much to find some place in the factory where she could be alone with the chocolatier. She wanted to talk… or something like that. They hadn't been able to even look at each other properly since it had happened.

Wonka had tucked away his dinner as quickly as usual, though today there was no work to return to afterward. He couldn't run and hide behind some invention now, but he hardly felt like doing that anyway. He found a stray chocolate egg hiding in one of his pockets and grasped it for a moment, then dropped in back into the depths of the pocket. It would be there for later. He was trying to think of a way to corner Veronica alone. Certainly they would be on their own when he showed her the door, but he WASN'T repeating the Valentine's Day fiasco, not this time. He couldn't accomplish what he wanted to accomplish if he was already shooing her out the door at the same time. He watched her intently for awhile, everyone else looking intensely down into their plates as if this dinner was a particularly interesting looking one. Finally, Veronica stood up, looking uneasy. Wonka jumped to his feet too.

"I think… I'm gonna go take a walk. Come with me?" He asked her quickly. She nodded silently and the two shuffled awkwardly out the door. The entire Bucket family breathed a sigh of relief, and then conversation began in earnest.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

"Willy, it's my fault, if I hadn't—" Veronica began, but Wonka pressed a gloved finger to her lips.

"Shh."

"But…" She mumbled through his finger.

"Shh!" He shushed her insistently. She fell silent. "What's done is done and you can't change it, not one little bit." He said, looking at her significantly.

"I know, I know," Veronica said, once again through Wonka's gloved finger, before snatching it away from her face. "So I might as well just put it out of mind and…"

Before she could finish, he swooped in and kissed her.

"You just never shut up, now do you?" He asked cheerfully, walking away and leaving her behind.

"Would you rather we repeat the Valentine episode?"

Wonka had a brief image of himself groveling and begging for her attention as she just stood there, grinning. He shivered and shook his head.

"Then let me talk."

He turned to face her, blue velvet eyes scanning her face.

"When are you gonna learn that talking never solves anything? What happened, happened. You can't change that, nor do you want to, I think. So stop talking about it and move on to the present." Wonka grabbed her by the wrist and began dragging her along. "Now if you're gonna walk with me, you have to move those feet!" Veronica trotted after him, barely keeping up.

"Where are we going?"

"Same place we were earlier, the Hall of Holidays. I wanna show you something." This last bit sounded reminiscent of an eager child, and he began to walk faster still, somehow not breaking his stride. Eventually, they made it into the long narrow hallway, with doors crammed along its sides. They passed a few, the minor holidays, with tiny round doors. Veronica wondered just how big they were inside. She envisioned a broom closet stuffed with his inventions and an Oompa Loompa or two for good measure. He came first to the Room of Roses and flung open the door. There, the chocolate rosebushes were bursting with blooms, more than Veronica could even have imagined. Wordlessly, Wonka shut the door and approached the next down the line, the Chocolate Egg Room. Veronica cowered when he opened the door, but nothing came tumbling out. There were several roosts for chocolate colored chickens, all bearing enormous clutches of eggs. Again, Wonka closed this door without a word. They continued on, the Candy Corn room yielded cornstalks bearing so many ears of candy corn that they were bending with the weight, creating bizarre crop circles. The gingerbread room saw several Oompa Loompas chasing about even tinier little men, all laughing and giggling uproariously and trying to escape the panting Oompa Loompas. Finally, they entered a room at the very end of the hall. There was nothing in this room, save one thing; a Christmas tree of enormous size, bearing sugared plums and marzipan fruits, all to be hung on someone else's holiday tree. He had not said a word during all this, but watched as Veronica's eyes widened. These rooms had not been part of her initial tour and, if they had, she certainly didn't remember them looking like this. As he shut the final door, he turned to her, eyes boring into hers.

"These rooms were neglected and left to the Oompa Loompas to care for before you came. And every year they produced more than enough candy to keep the world satisfied. But after you came, I started walking this hallway a lot more. I don't work down here, I just walk the halls. But since I have done that, the production of these rooms has risen 400 percent. It's not even the holiday season, and the Christmas tree is putting out plums. So don't ever think that anything you've done since you've been here is bad for my business." Veronica stared. All this—because of her? "So I don't want you coming in and second guessing your decisions. After all, I never have, and look at me!" His face split in a quirky grin, and he snatched up her wrist again. "Ok, time to go now! Don't forget, face your fears, it builds character!" And he dragged her to the front door.

"Happy Easter Veronica."

"Thank you, Willy." And as she walked down the steps, she had no idea that this would be her last happy night for a long time to come.


	23. Chapter 23

The shadowed figure approached her almost as soon as she had closed the gate behind her.

"Hello Veronica. What have you got for me?"

"You know damn well I have nothing for you." She spat into the darkness, not looking at her newfound companion.

"That's really a shame." Veronica heard him snap his fingers and before she knew what was going on, two pairs of extremely strong arms were muscling her off her intended path.

"What're you—" She began, and then shrieked. "Willy!"

"He can't hear you, child, and even if he can, do you expect him to come valiantly to your rescue? I think not." Slugworth was grinning into the darkness, his beetle-black eyes glinting in the pale moonlight. As the two mysterious pairs of arms held her, he came forward, pulling out a handkerchief.

"Ether really is a primitive way to knock one out… but it's so much more civilized than a blow to the head, isn't it darling?" And he stuffed the handkerchief over Veronica's face. She fought for a moment, then slumped, unconscious. No one had bothered to look back toward the factory gates. If they would have, they would have seen a tall, thin figure with a top hat and cane, lurking in the shadows just beyond his own front door, too afraid to go further, but knowing he couldn't just turn back.

When Veronica came to, she found herself blindfolded, her hands tied behind her back, in a drafty space. She had no idea how she had gotten there, or even where "there" was. She heard footsteps, and a voice spoke out of the darkness.

"I'm very sorry to have to spoil your holiday like this, darling, but you really weren't being cooperative." Veronica could hear a hint of amusement in his voice.

"If you cared about me at all, you wouldn't do this." Veronica said harshly, but there was fear behind her voice, and Slugworth knew it.

"But I do care about you. You're my only child. It's Wonka I can't stand. Besides, I can't have him make the same mistakes I did. No one will treat my little girl that way." His tone was mocking, and if Veronica could have slapped him, she would have done so, then and there. As it was, she could do nothing but sit and seethe, blinded to the world around her.

"I'll leave you to think about your decision. If you suddenly remember anything you've thus far neglected to tell me… I'll be around." And Veronica could hear Slugworth's footsteps fading away.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

Wonka spent most of that night pacing the front foyer of the chocolate factory. Who would take Veronica like that? Well, Slugworth, for one… But where would he keep her? Wonka had to do something, he had seen them drug her and drag her off, too petrified by the scene and those two big, burly accomplices to act. He could call the police… but that would attract too much attention. He could send the Oompa Loompas out to search for her… but that would mean sacrificing a month's worth of chocolate to augment their salaries…What to do?

He didn't dare enter the factory, even to go up to his own room to sleep. The great glass elevator would pass the Hall of Holidays, and his mood right now was enough to wilt the chocolate rosebushes and set the Christmas tree afire like a Yule log. So, finally, with a resigned sigh, he curled in the very front corner of the foyer, near the front doors, and fell asleep with his hat over his face. And for the first time in ages out of mind, he actually dreamed.

He was walking the factory alone, when something pulled him off on a detour he had never taken before. He was led, almost as if by guiding hands, down a long, mirrored hall. At the end of the hall, the boardroom gleamed, resplendent and new, its black licorice table gleaming in the firelight, the tall head seat with it's embellished W's standing proudly at the table's head. Something guided him into that seat, and as he took it, all the confused and hidden emotions of the past fifteen years swept over him, like a fierce wind, the loneliness, the confusion, the emptiness of staring at an empty factory. Charlie, the Buckets, the Oompa Loompas, they may still have been there, but as far as Wonka was concerned anymore, the factory may as well be empty without Veronica. And as he sat there in silence, he heard a whisper in his ear.

"You have to go on, Will."

He turned abruptly, and standing behind him, spun sugar dress and wings gleaming in the firelight, stood the Queen of the Sugar Plum Faeries. She extended a hand and brushed the hair back from his face. She was smiling a smile quite reminiscent of Veronica.

"I am proud of what you have done here. But you must still go on. There is more yet to do. Have the courage to seek her out, and I will be with you all the way."

Wonka's eyes were as wide as a child's, as he gazed on her. For all those long years she had been his guiding light, his goddess, the reason and the inspiration for his greatness. He remembered the first time he had dreamed of her, that first night he had tasted chocolate. She had been so fuzzy and unfocused then, little more than a gleaming star in the heavens. Now she was growing clearer all the time. He watched her stand, swirled in a breeze he couldn't feel, and saw that her face, her entire being was slowly and continually changing, so smoothly it was as if it hadn't changed at all, but giving the impression of a multi-faceted jewel. She looked away for a moment.

"Even when you have felt you were alone completely, I was with you. But can't you see me now?" And when she brought her eyes back to his, they were storm grey. Standing in the firelight, bearing the wings and gown of a goddess, was Veronica, and when she spoke next, it was not the ethereal voice of the goddess, but Veronica's own.

"I will be with you… even if you cannot see that now. Seek me, the Faerie Queen, no longer, for you know my true name now."

"Veronica…"

The Oompa Loompas all watched as he mumbled in his sleep, and then relaxed once more. As the dream faded, he crossed into undisturbed, innocent sleep.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

Veronica had no sense of the passing of days and nights. She was unblindfolded and untied for meals, and kept under heavy guard. She had found herself in a windowless room, a basement or storehouse, it was cold, it was drafty, and it smelled faintly of mildew and newspaper. In that first shock of knowing she was in a strange place, she had attempted to take in all she could of the room, where her guard was placed, the location of stairs or vents. She even scanned the ceiling for cameras. Seeing none, and facing threatening looks from her guard, she ate quickly. So quickly, she would have made Wonka jealous of her speed. Wonka… Would he even know she was missing? She had been gone days, weeks at a time. By then all his secrets could be tortured out of her. No one had made a move to harm her, but she knew all too well that the worst kind of torture was time. And she had plenty of that.

Once a day, her father would pay her a short visit, only to ask if she was ready to spill her guts and divulge Wonka's most precious secrets. Every day she refused. Every day she spent in blind darkness, slumped against packing crates in this miserable place. And then one day…

She had heard no approaching footsteps, so when she was tapped on the nose, she sat up at once, startled.

"Willy?" She hissed.

"Shh." A finger was pressed to her lips. It couldn't possibly be Wonka, this was a ruse. The finger bore no glove. She had to play along.

"Willy, get me out of here!"

"I can't. Did you tell them anything?"

"No." A pause, then, "How did you get in here without anybody seeing? And where am I?"

"You are presently in my company!" The whisper said cheerfully. It was definitely Wonka. "And I got in with a nifty little invention of mine from the Unmarketables Room."

"What?"

"Shh. The Unmarketables Room. Unfortunately, I think Hair Toffee's gonna be the next addition…"

"Well, are you gonna tell me how you got in, or not?"

"Oh, right. Well, a few years back, I invented a candy that could make you invisible, unfortunately, in all our test subjects, we found a corresponding raise in crime rate. Go figure! So, we couldn't sell this little beauty. But, once I figured out where they were hiding you, I figured it would be a snap for me to come in unannounced-like and scope out a rescue plan. And no one will even know I'm here!" Wonka giggled "Of course, I've only got two hours before the candy wears off, and I have to be safely back home by then. Can't have anyone out on the street spying me when this little bugger wears off, no sir."

"And why's that? People are getting used to seeing you on little excursions, I think."

"The invisibility effect of the candy doesn't affect your clothes. And I couldn't just walk in here like the invisible man, could I? Floating top hat and cane and all?"

"So you're…" Veronica tried very hard not to think of what she was missing, were her blindfold off.

"Silly, you couldn't see me anyway!" Wonka grinned, apparently reading her mind yet again. "Besides, why would you want to? That's just… weird."

"…Lovely. Well, I hope this is helping you formulate a rescue plan."

"Oh, it is indeed, don't you worry your little noggin…" But Wonka had spied the clock on the far wall. "Oh dear. Sorry to leave you like this, but I've got to go, no time to waste, no siree!" And with another tap on the nose, he was gone.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

Veronica began to receive regular visits from an invisible Wonka. This was a little odd, considering the circumstances under which he became invisible, but he was there. Of course, he had yet to attempt to spring her from her prison, and seemed to intend on having no purpose but moral support. She was still getting regular interrogations from her father, and he had begun to grow nastily impatient with her. Twice now she had gone without dinner, further skewing her sense of the passage of time. Wonka came regularly to tell Veronica that Charlie was bringing home letters from her captors that demanded a ransom to free her. He was beginning to contemplate which he would be willing to part with.

"You can't just do that! They'll have you forever then, and they'll know it!" Veronica hissed. "This is exactly why I didn't tell you earlier!"

"You knew?"

"Of course I knew, but I wasn't going to tell you. If you give them something, then everything I've been doing trying to protect you is for nothing. Do you think I like sitting here in the dark day after day?"

"Better than being stuck in an avalanche of chocolate eggs." Wonka giggled

"You know this is your fault, right? If you wouldn't have made me go home… we could be enjoying…I could be enjoying your ignoring me as you try to work." Veronica growled. "And yet here I am, still loyally defending your secrets. If my mother hadn't sold Slugworth's fudge recipe…"

"Fudge? What kind of fudge?"

"The most delicious strawberry flavored, chocolate covered fudge. My mother used to make it for me. But she sold the recipe… She told me my father died, but seeing as he isn't dead, I can see why he's bent on vengeance. Dunno why it's so directed at you though."

Wonka was very quiet for a long time, Veronica actually began to suspect that he had run off, that time was running out on the invisibility jellies, and that he had to dash back to the factory. Just on his last visit, he had cut the time so close that he had been seen dashing into his room by a passing Oompa Loompa… Needless to say, the Oompa Loompa in question was now Frank's most current patient.

"Your mother sold me that recipe… actually it's currently one of our biggest sellers!" Wonka added cheerfully, after a beat.

"You? That's… someone else's recipe? But it tastes nothing like what my mother used to make! What's your secret?"

"Oh, that's simple. Love!" Wonka beamed, though Veronica couldn't see it.

"…Love. That's all?"

"That's all!"

"Well then we should run upstairs and tell Slugworth and get me out of here!"

"No."

"Why? He can't duplicate it."

"Because it's my secret."

Veronica wanted to argue with this statement, but she could not. She understood why Wonka would want to guard this, the last of his great secrets, with such care. It was the only advantage he had over his competition after all. They could duplicate his recipes, but could never make them quite the way he did. And it was because he loved the candy, loved making the candy, loved it for the sake of loving it, not for the profits he would turn.

"Time's up. Gotta run!" He rumpled her hair and was gone before she could even say goodbye. She was left again with her thoughts, left to wonder whether he was actually going to attempt a rescue for her or not.


	24. Chapter 24

"So child, what have you got to tell me?" Slugworth was sneering down at his daughter, still leaning against an old packing crate on the floor. It was getting very monotonous and very uncomfortable.

"I have nothing for you, and I'm hardly a child." Veronica said sharply.

"We have been through this a hundred thousand times now, and you still won't tell me? What makes Wonka's chocolates so different, what is his secret? You know it, I know you do."

"I know nothing."

"Your beloved chocolatier is refusing to pay his ransom. Are we going to have to up the stakes? Or was I wrong? He really doesn't care about you at all, just his precious candy. In that case, it wouldn't matter to him if we destroyed you… And believe me, we will do it."

"If you want your fudge recipe back so badly, why don't you come and get it?" Slugworth whirled around. Standing on a pair of packing crates, idly twirling his cane in gloved hands, was Willy Wonka. "Although, honestly, if you want the recipe so bad, why did you forget it in the first place?" A quirked grin spread over his face, showing his perfect white teeth. Slugworth growled, baring his own grimy, crooked teeth.

"I didn't forget my own recipe, idiot! I want to know what makes your version so special. Why does it fly off shelves when mine doesn't attract a customer? It was my future and you stole it from me!" And he lunged at Wonka, who leapt deftly off the packing crates just before Slugworth sent them flying.

"I stole nothing. I bought a recipe from a pretty lady in my shop who was willing to part with it. The only dirty parasitic thief in this room is you, sending in spies to snatch up my secrets." Wonka jabbed Slugworth in the back of his left shoulder with his cane. Slugworth spun round, trying to yank Wonka's cane from his grasp, but Wonka was already gone. He popped up from behind another large packing crate.

"You know, it smells funny down here for being the basement of a candy shop. What do you make in here? Arsenic crunch? Mildew ice cream? Eww." He tapped Slugworth again, this time on the opposite shoulder, before disappearing back behind the packing crate. Slugworth advanced on the crate.

"Looking for me?" Wonka giggled. He was now perched atop the crate, in a move definitely borrowed from Veronica's strategy. He tapped Slugworth now on the top of his head, before slipping away.

"Stop being juvenile, Wonka, and face me like a man!" Slugworth bellowed, looking around at the stacks of packing crates surrounding him.

Veronica meanwhile was squirming about on the floor trying to work her blindfold off. She wasn't keen on missing all the action. A pair of hands grabbed her arms, but she bit back her startled shriek when she realized they were clad in gloves. They pulled off her blindfold and began to work clumsily at the rope around her hands, but Slugworth had noticed this and was now advancing on them, jagged bit of wood from an old packing crate in his hand. Veronica saw a few rusty nails sticking out from it. Wonka wasn't paying attention, he was now entirely absorbed in untying Veronica.

"Willy…" She mumbled.

"Huh? Oh…" He looked up. Slugworth was standing over him, weapon raised. Wonka took his cane and slid it through the loops in Slugworth's shoelaces and yanked, sending him sprawling.

"Come on!" He pulled Veronica to her feet and yanked her off behind another set of crates. Attacking her bindings once more, his gloves fumbling on the ropes, he tapped his foot impatiently on the floor. Finally, they seemed to be loosening. Veronica slid her hands free, but no sooner had they turned around, than they came face to face with three men from the EHA. Veronica didn't even see him move, but Wonka had jabbed the first man in the stomach with his cane, whacked the second over the head, and thrust the pointed end of the cane into Veronica's hands. He looked at her for the briefest of moments, and then the two rushed forward, Veronica shrieking a battle cry for good measure, and clotheslined the third. And then everything went black.

When Veronica came to, she was lying in a white bed with white sheets, squinting at the bright white lights of the room. Her right arm was covered in bloody scratches, and her left one was bound up in a makeshift sling. The back of her head was very sore, and the room swam before her eyes for several minutes before settling into clarity. She was entirely alone, but not for long. The door swung open and in strode Willy Wonka, looking harassed. When he saw her, however, his face brightened into a grin.

"Thank god, you're completely unharmed…" He said absently.

"Never thought I'd be seeing this place again so soon." Veronica said groggily, with a smile. It was then that she truly noticed Wonka. His left cheekbone was badly bruised, right beneath his eye. And his hands were bandaged in a similarly haphazard manner as her arm. He wasn't wearing gloves because of this.

"What happened to you? And… for good measure, what happened to me?"

He sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Right after we knocked out those three people from the EHA, Slugworth knocked you out with that big ugly board, and before I could stop him, someone else came to and grabbed my ankle. Go figure! Well, I smacked him pretty good with ole' reliable here…" He twirled his cane awkwardly through his bandaged hands, "But Slugworth was still beating on you so…" He looked sheepishly at his feet and picked at the bandages on his left hand. "I gave him a good whack. I didn't really want to hurt him or anything, just distract him enough to leave you alone. So he got me back…" He indicated his face with a wince. "And then I grabbed the piece of wood… Didn't know it had nails in it till afterward…" Well, he ran off after that, and I flipped out because you were bleeding, and I was bleeding and… we all know what sort of contamination there is there…" He shivered, staring off into space for a moment. "So I… sort of carried you back here."

"You… carried me here? All by yourself?"

"Well, yeah, I couldn't exactly call the Oompa Loompas to help me, now could I?" He grinned proudly. "Don't worry, you're not that heavy. And look! I did that myself too!" He pointed at her bandaged arm. "Trust me, it wasn't pretty before."

"Thank you…" Veronica said quietly.

"That's nothing…" Wonka said, taking off his hat and playing with it.

"You wanna tell me what day it is?" Veronica changed the subject awkwardly.

"It's Thursday, almost the end of April. You missed seeing the fudge room become the pretzel room this morning. It really is neat!" Wonka smiled. "It's good to have you back. Besides, I was starting to get sick of the taste of those invisibility jellies! I had to save you sooner or later! But that was one heck of a test trial! I might just take them back to the inventing room, and that's a first!"

"Maybe you can get them to make clothes invisible too." Veronica smiled.

"Yeah… that was…weird."

There was a long, awkward silence. These seemed to punctuate their conversations quite a lot nowadays. But something pricked at the back of Veronica's mind, and finally, she had to ask.

"When you were invisible… could you see yourself?"

"Not really." Wonka said. "That would be really weird."

"Yeah… but then, if you couldn't see your hands, how did you know where they were? Like… when you tapped me on the nose… How did you know you weren't gonna poke me in the eye?"

"I dunno… I guess you just sort of know. You can try it some time, if you want!"

"Not until you figure out how to make clothes invisible too."

"Well, you're no fun." Wonka pouted. "I had to do it."

"Desperate times call for desperate measures." Veronica said stiffly. "I don't need to be invisible for anything, so I can wait until you can vanish my clothes too."

"Well, maybe you can be my test subject… 'Course, we might run into an odd candy or two that only vanishes the clothes…" Wonka was just pulling her chain now, and she knew it.

"Shut up." She growled. "Don't make me hit you, because I'm pretty sure it'll be painful for both of us."

"No need to snap." Wonka turned back to her, grinning. "You should sleep. I don't want you all groggy and sleepy tomorrow. I get to teach you the secrets of candymaking tomorrow!"

"But… I can't boil water without burning it…" Veronica mumbled. "I thought we both understood that 'the secrets of candymaking' was code…"

"Code? I'm not good at codes." Wonka smiled, cheerily. "Why? What'd you mean when you said…?"

"Sex." Veronica mumbled under her breath.

"What'd you say?" Wonka asked, enigmatic grin spreading.

"Nothing. I didn't mean anything by it." She said quickly.

"Oh, well, I can't just have you freeloading here. You said you were gonna learn the secrets of candymaking, and that's just what you're gonna do!"

"Yeah, I'll bet…" Veronica mumbled sarcastically, sinking back on her pillows.


	25. Chapter 25

"Wake up Sleepyhead! We have work to do!" The old familiar call to arms rose Veronica with a smile. Unfortunately, her bruised skull and the dizziness that accompanied it caused her to sink back onto the bed with a moan.

"Veronica, you're a liar, you know that?" Wonka said matter-of-factly.

"How am I a liar?" She asked, rubbing her eyes and praying that the room would stop spinning.

"You said you couldn't boil water without burning it. Well, I ran a series of complex tests last night and guess what I found out? Guess!"

"I give up. Tell me." Veronica said dryly.

"Water doesn't burn!"

"It does for me, trust me." Veronica smiled. "Well, do I get to 'learn the secrets of candymaking' today or not?"

"Yes, but first we have to teach you a few elementary skills." Wonka smiled cheerily and seized her by the wrist, pulling her off the bed. So much for waiting for the room to stop spinning…

"Are you gonna be able to..." Veronica looked at Wonka's hastily bandaged hands. "teach me, or should we take a few days and recuperate?" She asked hopefully.

"Nonsense, I just pull on a pair of gloves and…" He tried to snap his fingers, but instead ended up wincing and massaging his palm. "Besides, you aren't weaseling your way out of this this time, no sir. If you're gonna come and work for me, you have to learn how to do it sooner or later."

"Hey, I never said I wanted to work here. I hear the pay is deplorable." She smiled at his indignant look.

"It is NOT." Wonka drew himself up importantly. "Cocoa beans are quite a commodity! Besides, if you live here, you work here."

"Mr. Bucket doesn't work here; he works for the toothpaste factory. And Charlie's grandparents don't work here, they don't work at all. And Mrs. Bucket…"

"Mrs. Bucket is my personal chef; ergo she does work here, smartypants! And furthermore, Mr. Bucket had a job before they moved in, so he doesn't count. AND, Charlie's grandp—"He choked, and looked to Veronica for assistance.

"Grandparents?"

"Yeah, them. They're retired. They don't need to work. But Charlie works here, and the Oompa Loompas work here, and I certainly work here. And you have to, if you're gonna stay here. You don't have an excuse. So there!" And he smiled with such an air of superiority that Veronica was determined to think of some comeback.

"I CAN'T BOIL WATER WITHOUT BURNING IT. SO THERE!" Veronica retorted, sneering.

"Water has nothing to do with chocolate." Wonka said quietly. "That's hardly an excuse." And he turned to see her seething, red faced. He giggled at her.

"That's it, candyman, you want another black eye?" She growled.

"No, not really." Wonka said, conversationally. He stepped out of harm's way as she swung at him, and then seized her by the wrist, intentionally digging his fingertips into her scratches, and pulled her out the door. "Now move those feet! You're wasting time, and there's no time to dilly or dally!" She yelped in pain and followed.


	26. Chapter 26

A.N. Sorry for the dreadfully short chapter 25. I realized I had a bit of catching up to do, between what I was writing and what I was posting. Fortunately, a long boring day at work surrounded by chocolate and bottles of merlot gave me a bit of a jump start. (Gotta love retail!) So a big thank you to Joe's Produce for giving me eight hours of work to think about the direction of this monster, and an even bigger thank you to everyone who has read and/or reviewed WWMHI. You continue to be the inspiration and the method to my madness!

She spent the day bent over a double boiler, learning how to properly melt chocolate, and bring other candies up to the proper temperature. She couldn't count how many times she looked up from a batch of seized chocolate to have Wonka shaking his head at her. By the end of the day, she had only produced a usable melted chocolate twice. Wonka sighed, pulling a roll of parchment out of the pocket of his frock coat and letting it unfurl to the floor. It rolled out to a length of about thirty feet before stopping. Wonka casually made his way through the list until he came to "cocoa beans" and began furiously scratching out figures and recalculating sums, counting on his fingers and at one point producing an abacus from who but he knew where. Veronica watched all this incredulously, and when he finally tossed the abacus over his shoulder, rolled the parchment and pocketed it, and tossed aside an enormous peacock-feather quill pen, he smiled a bit forcedly at her.

"We'll just have to downsize the Oompa Loompas' Christmas bonuses this year, that's all."

Veronica sighed.

"You know I'm hopeless, right? My mother tried to teach me how to make everything from Jello to macaroons to macaroni and cheese. I can't cook anything. Apparently I'm not fit to be a chocolatier-ess either…"

Wonka giggled.

"What?"

"Chocolatier-ess?"

"Hey… I thought of that first!" She said, jokingly.

"Tomorrow you'll be better. No one can be horrible forever!" Wonka said brightly.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

"You just don't have a knack for this, do you?" Wonka was staring at yet another batch of horrifically mutilated chocolate. Veronica sat down on the floor, shaking her head. "Well… there go the Oompa Loompas' pension plans…"

"Shut up, Willy." She moaned. "It's been a month, and I still haven't gotten past that!" She gestured carelessly at the bowl of sludge on the counter above her.

"Well, maybe I can fix it…" Wonka hovered over the bowl for a few seconds, prodding at what used to be chocolate and adding drops of this or that. "There, see!" He pulled Veronica back to her feet moments later. "If I'da known it was that easy to fix, we wouldn't have had to cut back on the Oompa Loompas' secret Santa fund…"

"How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Just 'Poof!' fix everything?"

"I dunno… But you have to try something! Can't just let it sit there."

Veronica sighed. She looked at Wonka for a moment. He was staring down at what was now melted milk-chocolate perfection, just taking in the accomplishment. All this time she had been here and he hadn't said a thing about Easter, in fact, Veronica still was under the secret impression that to him, Easter had not even happened. Sure, the drama of her month of imprisonment may have driven the thought from his mind, but he did go through all the trouble of coming to visit, and even risking everything and saving her. Now she had endured a month of struggling to make one good batch of chocolate, with little more than overly cheerful words of encouragement and false, toothy grins that, half the time, scared the living daylights out of her. It was time to do something. Anything. She leaned her head on his shoulder and entwined her hand in his. He froze.

What on earth was this? He thought that they had both gotten this nonsense out of their systems at Easter. Unfortunately, the longer she stood there, pressing against him, the less it felt like nonsense. Gradually, he relaxed. Veronica grinned and tried to snuggle in a little closer. Truthfully, he had no idea what to do. He shot a furtive glance down at her. She tilted her head back, just a little, and blew in his ear. He shivered.

"Umm… What are you doing?" He looked away, a little pointedly.

"Trying to get you to step off that big chocolate pedestal you're on and join the human race." Veronica straightened back up, but didn't relinquish his hand. He decided she could keep it.

"You're no good at making chocolate, I'm no good at… being with people." He said, trying his hardest to be indifferent.

"All you need is a little practice. No one can be horrible forever!" She said quietly. "I think we should take a little break from this lesson. It'll do you as much good as it'll do me." And she led him from the room.

"Your room or mine?"

"…Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Besides, I'd rather like to remain undisturbed. You give your lessons without interruption, I want the freedom to do the same."

"So… this is an exchange of information. Nothing more?"

"You might say that…"

"Veronica?"

"In a manner of speaking…"

"Veronica!" He pulled back just slightly.

"What?" She turned back to him, latched her arm firmly with his own, and marched on.

"I don't want to…" he mumbled at length.

"Well, I didn't want to learn the secrets of candymaking, either."

"No, you wanted to 'learn the secrets of candymaking,' whatever that meant." Wonka said, rolling his eyes.

"Precisely. Here we are!" She had chosen Wonka's room, as it was much more dimly lit than her own. The moody purple walls and generally dark interior was precisely what she wanted. She pulled him inside and, after a little struggle in which Wonka refused to let go of the door frame, she managed to seat him on the corner of his bed. She noticed that the bed had gotten much bigger since she was last here, now fitting its elaborate four-poster frame. The carved W's at on the head and footboards wavered in the dim light.

"The other one was really uncomfortable." Wonka said quietly, scanning her thoughts. "Funny, the more I slept in here, the more I realized that that old bed was less comfortable than the floor of the fudge room!" He giggled mirthlessly, in a last ditch attempt to get Veronica to forget whatever it was she was going to do to him. He could tell it hadn't worked almost before he attempted it.

"How to get along with members of the opposite sex; lesson one. I'm your teacher, Miss Lightfoot…" Veronica purred, pulling off her own set of purple gloves from their candymaking escapades earlier. Wonka nervously adjusted his hat and sat, straight as a board on the edge of the bed, hands folded neatly in his lap, eyes carefully following Veronica.

"Is it too late to give you an excuse as to why I can't do this?" Wonka asked.

"Far, far too late." Veronica whispered.

"I was afraid of that…"

She seated herself on the edge of the bed, beside Wonka. She moved about as close to him as he would allow, and then just stopped, staring at him.

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"There's a pretty girl sitting next to you and you like her, and you're pretty sure she likes you too. What do you do?"

"Well, first off, I don't know if I like you very much right now!" Wonka hissed, trying not to look at her.

"Don't talk. What do you do?"

There was a long silence. Wonka didn't move a muscle and, as a result, neither did Veronica. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, she seized his arm and guided it around her waist.

"Not too high, not too low, or you're liable to get a slap in the face." She grinned. "Got it?"

Wonka looked back at her, horrified.

"Don't worry, I'll be lenient the first few times." Her grin turned devilish. "Now I move. It's a dance." She leaned against him and lay her head on his shoulder again. He was so tense that this was quite uncomfortable, but she forgave him that for once. "Now it's your turn." She subtly indicated her free right hand. He took it, after a beat, looking extremely nervous. In return she lay her left hand on his right thigh, just above his knee. He jumped and just about hit the ceiling.

"Enough already?" Veronica asked, teasingly.

"Just about." Wonka panted, now standing across the room from her. "Besides, we're wasting time, we have chocolate to make!"

"Cheater." Veronica muttered under her breath, but she followed him obediently out of the room.


	27. Chapter 27

Lessons continued for both of them for a few days, neither making much progress. Slowly, but surely enough, Veronica's chocolate was looking more and more edible, but Wonka didn't get much farther than he had on his first day. Finally, Veronica began to give up on her long kept theory of 'less talk, more action,' and decided to try a new tack.

"Willy, I think we should talk."

"Talk away!" He said absently, poring over a batch of caramel.

"But you won't talk if you're working. The operative word in my statement was 'we.' We should talk."

He looked up, eyes flashing for a moment, then a smile crept over his face.

"I appreciate your concern, but I'm really very busy at the moment!" He sounded slightly like the message one might hear when being put on hold.

"And I don't care!" Veronica smiled back, the same toothy, creepy grin that he was rapidly acquiring. Startled, Wonka slowly shut off the massive burners heating the caramel. "Your room or…"

"Mine…" Wonka sighed. "As if we didn't know the answer to that question already!"

They went in silence, stepping into the great glass elevator and watching the doors slide closed behind them. Wonka reached up to press the button, but Veronica stopped him.

"What?"

"Well, here's as good a place as any to talk privately, right?"

"Umm… no. See, if I don't push a button, this little beauty is programmed to pick a room at random and…" He made a swooshing motion with one hand. "Off we go. So unless you'd like to try and talk during the ride…" He smiled.

"No…" Veronica looked up at the cable suspended above their heads. She definitely didn't relish the thought of holding serious conversation during a roller-coaster ride. Wonka resumed his reach for the button, pausing and looking back once, devilish smile on his face.

"Sure?"

"Positive."

He pressed the button.

At first it seemed like nothing was going to happen. The elevator didn't fly off immediately, but instead seemed to be contemplating its direction. Then it dropped straight off its cable in free fall for almost a full ten seconds before catching another cable and zooming off in a swirling, looping path through the factory. When it stopped, they were definitely nowhere near Wonka's room. They were facing a room full of strange exotic plants that gave off a scent very similar to the mysterious one Veronica sensed on Wonka's frock coat so long ago. But before they could exit the elevator, the doors slid shut again and the little box zoomed straight upward, like a rocket. It bounced from room to room for awhile, never finding the right destination, and then slowed to a complete stop in the middle of nowhere.

"Welcome to the… geographical center of the factory?" Wonka said quietly. "Hmm… I'll have to have an Oompa Loompa look at this thing later…"

They were hanging, suspended on the cable, with complete darkness surrounding them. The only lights were emanating from the elevator itself. Veronica tried not to look down, but there was nowhere else she could look and still feel safe, so she concentrated very hard on Wonka's blue velvet eyes.

"Well, looks like we'll be having your conversation in here after all, smartypants!" Wonka said cheerfully, gazing around at the nothingness that surrounded them. Veronica whimpered when the doors slid open onto the void. "We'll be here awhile. Sit down." Wonka said, very quietly and very low. He slid to the floor and Veronica did the same. Wonka was sitting in the rear corner of the elevator. Veronica was closer to the open door. The elevator gave a nasty, jerking lurch forward. She shrieked and clung to his arm, tears already sliding down her cheeks.

"What's wrong with it?" She asked, not daring to look toward the darkness.

"It's broken, silly." Said Wonka. "Nothing to be scared of… At least I don't think." This last part was slightly ominous.

"I don't like it. Why did the door open?"

"It's broken, like I told you." Wonka said carefully.

The elevator gave another swinging lurch as one of its cable-wheels unhitched from the cable, and then reclamped again.

"We're gonna fall and die…" Veronica whispered.

"Poppycock."

"I'm scared."

"I can see that. I'm not." Wonka said cheerfully, in an attempt to reassure her.

At length, the doors slid shut and the elevator rolled backwards about ten feet. Then, just as it began to shoot forward at top speed again, it seemed to catch on nothing and came skidding and swinging to a halt. The doors flew open again and Veronica slid dangerously close to the void. Shrieking, she scrambled back to the corner and clung to Wonka like a frightened cat.

"I woulda caught you." He said indignantly.

She wasn't paying attention to what he was saying anymore. She climbed, very uninvited and very awkwardly into his lap and latched her arms around his neck.

"I don't want to fall…"

"Jeez, you are scared." Wonka said uncomfortably, trying to look down at her. She whimpered in reply and her grip on him tightened. She was definitely crying, he could feel her shaking, and her breath came in heaving sobs. Cautiously and very awkwardly, he lay a hand on the side of her face and began brushing her hair back. He didn't really know what had triggered such a thing, it was automatic. A few moments later he rested his chin lightly on the top of her head. Her shuddering breath calmed down just a little.

"Hey, whaddya know? You ok now?" He asked her.

"No." She mumbled thickly. "I'll be ok when the elevator goes where it's supposed to."

Wonka reached up and pressed a random button. There was no reaction. The great glass elevator still stood in the middle of nowhere, doors open on nothing.

"Would this be an inconvenient moment to ask if you're afraid of heights?" Wonka asked.

"Not especially…" Veronica said, looking up at him. "Why, what're you…"

"Oh good!" He stood up, pulling her to her feet. A moment later he had pulled a tiny, grooved wheel out of one pocket, handed it to Veronica, and produced another for himself. "Then we can get out of here." He snatched Veronica's wheel back out of her hands and latched it to the elevator cable. "Now, hold on to that little bar, and push off."

"You want me… to just… Do you have any idea how high up we are?"

"No!" He giggled. "I'll be right behind you!"

So Veronica, praying that Wonka knew what he was doing, did as she was told. A moment later, she was rolling slowly along the cable on its downward slope. Wonka was following. And then they saw the elevator give a lurch.

"Uh oh."

"Uh oh? What uh oh?" Veronica asked. Then she saw it too. About twenty or thirty feet from them now, the elevator doors had slid shut and it was slowly backing up the cable. Because of the slope, Veronica and Wonka were now traveling somewhat quickly, but if the elevator were to take off at top speed… It lurched to a halt. Veronica breathed a sigh of relief.

"Jump." Wonka whispered.

"Excuse me?"

"Jump." He said again.

"Why?"

"That's why."

The elevator had now begun sliding toward them, picking up speed.

"I can't see the floor."

"I don't care!" Wonka said. "Jump!"

"On the count of three… one…"

"THREE!" And Wonka let go of the little wheel. Veronica followed suit, squeezing her eyes shut and holding her breath. The elevator crashed past where they had been barely seconds later.

Veronica free fell for what seemed like an eternity. It was like she wasn't even falling, simply floating in some void. And then she felt an elevator cable just barely miss her. She opened her eyes. The ground was looming toward them. She squeezed her eyes shut again and… landed in the midst of something very soft and very fluffy. She opened her eyes again. She was sitting in an immense pile of fluffy pink material. She could hear sheep somewhere too. Wonka was standing nearby, brushing pink wool from his clothes.

"Wasn't that lucky?" He said cheerfully. "Now come on, let's go!"

"What is this place?" Veronica asked.

"I'd… rather not say." Wonka said awkwardly. "Follow me."

They walked on for a long time, through empty back hallways and darkened rooms. Veronica was still very shaken when he led her through a door and back into the brightly lit main hallway. From there it was only minutes before they were seated in his room, on the end of his bed.

"You still wanna have that talk, or can we go back and finish my caramel?" Wonka asked cheerfully.

"Truthfully?"

"Uhh, ye-eah!" He said, dragging out the 'y' a little longer than necessary.

"Truthfully I want to just curl up here and never move again." Veronica said quietly, twisting a bit of the purple comforter in her hands.

"Well, unfortunately, you can't, one; because this is my room, and two; because you have to eat and stuff or you'll die."

"Well, will you at least sit here with me for a little while?" She asked.

"I guess…" He said grudgingly. "But I don't see how that's gonna help."

"I do."

So Veronica tried to curl back up in his lap, but he shifted and looked at her uncomfortably. She settled for leaning once again on his bony shoulder. She kept shooting him nasty, miserable looks, and trying her hardest to dig her chin into the most uncomfortable spot possible on his shoulder, until he shrugged her off and looked at her squarely.

"…If you must."

She surpressed a watery smile and clambered back into his lap, latching her arms once again firmly about his neck.

"We're wasting time." He said after awhile.

"Mmm…" Veronica buried her face in his chest, a bit awkwardly at first, to avoid his shiny silver 'W' pin.

"You seem fine now, can we go?" Wonka said, getting antsy.

"I seem fine?" She said into his shirt. "How can you say that? Can you even see me to make an assessment?"

"The fact that you just said that leads me to believe… yeah." Wonka smiled stiffly. "Smartypants."

"But now I'm all warm and cozy." Veronica said, still refusing to lift her head. "If we go off, I'll be all cold and…"

"I hardly see how that matters. We have work to do."

"Can you just shut up and enjoy the moment?" Veronica snapped. She reached around blindly for his arms and threw them around her shoulders, then cuddled back as close to him as she possibly could.

Enjoy the moment? Why would he even dream of just… sitting there doing nothing when there was something, somewhere else, that needed doing? This factory was a like a tightly wound clock, everything worked smoothly, but only if all parts were functioning. And Wonka knew distinctly that there was one part not doing its job… him. If only he could somehow just…stop that!

She said enjoy the moment, now enjoy it, gosh darn it! But how to do that…

He shifted slightly, his leg was falling asleep. To his surprise, Veronica responded, and he felt his circulation return.

How had he done this before? In the elevator it was just something that had to be done, how was it so much more difficult now? He tried to find a comfortable way of putting his arms around her, but she was hunched unnaturally, trying to avoid the silver pin at his throat.

"Umm… Veronica?" She looked up. Well, at least this had gone right. He unfastened the silver pin and laid it on the table next to the bed. His collar slipped open a little, revealing a paler, if possible, throat. Veronica smiled and leaned in, much more naturally this time, and Wonka found himself able to hold her much more comfortably. But he was still somewhat tense, and Veronica could sense it. She removed her hands from their clasp about his neck and slipped them around his waist instead. He gave a shuddering start, and then relaxed a little more. And finally, after a long time, he bent and kissed her forehead, and then let himself relax, head bowed slightly, lips just brushing her forehead. Upon inhaling, his clever sense of smell picked up the flowery scent of her shampoo, still lingering in her hair. She sighed.

"This is what I wanted to talk to you about." She murmured.

He didn't reply. He was too busy enjoying the moment.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

The two of them stayed that way for a long time, on the edge of the bed. Eventually there was a knock on the door. Wonka looked up, blinking, as if coming out of some trance. Veronica rose first and tried not to look guilty or awkward standing there, and Wonka answered the door. There were two Oompa Loompas standing beyond. After a series of elaborate gestures on the parts of both the Oompa Loompas and Wonka, the two tiny men left, casting a very knowing look at Veronica, and Wonka turned back to her, shutting the door behind him.

"They found the elevator."

"Oh? Where did it end up?" Veronica was aiming for casualty, but missed the mark miserably.

"It keeps ramming into its docking port outside the nut room." Wonka said, with a hint of a little smile. "We can go watch until they fix it. The Oompa Loompas seem to think it's pretty funny."

"Don't you have some caramel to get back to?" She asked quietly.

"No." He said simply. He reached for the table and retrieved his silver pin, reclasping it at his throat. Then he turned to Veronica with a cocked head and quirky smile.

"Let's boogie!" And he made for the door without another word. Veronica reached out and touched his shoulder, and he stopped and turned back to her.

"…You are the single most bizarre man I've ever met." She smiled and followed him out.

She found herself giggling, actually amused by the great glass elevator, not long ago the source of her worst fear. It was bouncing determinedly and repeatedly into its dock just outside the nut room. Both sets of doors were open and Veronica could see that the machine was just daring the Oompa Loompa mechanics to try to jump inside to repair it. Wonka was standing beside her, giggling absently and watching the poor Oompa Loompas trying to figure out a way in. Finally, he picked up one by the collar of his uniform, and jumped deftly into the elevator himself. He ferried in a team of mechanics, all without losing his balance, or threatening to fall. Veronica applauded enthusiastically.

"Bravo!"

"What are you clapping for?"

"That was some trick!"

"Just elementary physics." Wonka smiled mysteriously, tapping his temple, and then tapping Veronica on the nose. "NOW I have some caramel to get back to, and there's no time to dilly or dally!"

As they walked back to the caramel room together, something occurred to Veronica. She turned to Wonka and stopped him from going further down the hallway.

"How are we ever gonna get anything done if you don't move those feet?" He asked, attempting to press on.

"It seems to me things tend to go wrong when I'm around…" Veronica said shyly.

"Oh no. Things go wrong all the time." Wonka brightened and stopped trying to dodge her. "It's just much more fun when you're around!"

"Thanks… I think…" Veronica said, stepping aside and gesturing for Wonka to lead the way. He strode off quickly, leaving Veronica trotting along behind.


	28. Chapter 28

Well, she had been here over a month now, and nothing funny had happened. Wonka wasn't quite sure if he had expected anything or not. He had made it clear from the very beginning that Veronica was welcome if she needed a place to go. Which was another thing. How had he known that he could trust her? Just… automatically, no questions asked, without knowing her past, let her into his life, and invite her to stay. He supposed it had been that first time he had looked her in the eye. She had cracked then, the mask of the health inspector had fallen away for even the briefest of moments, and he had read her like an open book. He supposed that was it. But what had he expected to happen when she actually did come to stay? Initially nothing, of course. Personally, he had barely known her, and she hadn't known him at all. He would have just taken her in out of pity. But after… Valentine's Day, Wonka guessed, that changed. He expected something, whether good or bad, he had no idea, but he did expect something. Maybe it was just that, by Valentine's Day, he knew of Veronica's treachery and sarcastic wit… or maybe it was because he himself was beginning to come, ever so slowly, out of his shell. By now he was wondering if keeping her here would cause some sort of catastrophic, earth shaking event… The factory could… blow up… disappear off the face of the earth! Or maybe it was the outside world that he expected to change… Someone would miss her, something. He couldn't even fathom someone living out… there… all alone. Sure, he had been alone for over a decade, but he had been here, in the safety of his factory, and then he had been with the Oompa Loompas ever since. But she… she had been all alone. No family… Wonka still gagged unpleasantly on that word… No friends, no siblings, nothing. No one cared about her, not even her former coworkers. She had been… alone, plain and simple. And that was very sad to him. For as alone as he had been, he had existed for so long in his little world that he hardly expected anyone to care about the man behind the chocolate. As long as they loved the chocolate, he needed none of it for himself. How could she have thrived out there, and still come to him so… unscathed? She was much more socially adept than he, she was more open, willing to take risks he simply could not, for though he could leap a three foot gap into a wildly swinging glass elevator without a second thought, he just couldn't bring himself to jump that gap to actually touching her, letting himself be a part of her, and a true part of her life.

She brought out the best in him, and yet that still wasn't enough. So what was it that he needed? What was it that he lacked, and what was it that had happened to him to make him stay so isolated for so long? He hadn't thought that he had ever been attached to anyone before, but maybe that wasn't true. He had liked his old employees well enough… until they turned around and stabbed him in the back like he was Caesar or something… Yes, he knew well the tale of Caesar… He kept that book, along with many others, on an enormous bookshelf in his study. But he rarely went there anymore. He was far too busy with the factory.

Wonka had known for years that the factory could run of its own accord for probably months at a time without him checking up on it. The Oompa Loompas had everything well in hand. But he had to do something. He couldn't just sit around and do nothing when there was something, somewhere that needed doing. So he threw himself into his work. Besides, what else would he do with that time? Read? He had read every book in his collection at least three times through. Living alone in an unused factory for ten years gives one plenty of opportunity to catch up on their reading. And beyond that, the only reading material other than his personal collection was far too boring. He let the financing and marketing departments take care of that. He had mastered every version of the card game solitaire known to man, and even invented a few of his own. He had learned how to create whimsical topiaries of everything from dinosaurs to ponies to swing dancers and ballerinas, with nothing but a pair of pruning shears. The indoor gardens had had a very interesting phase a few years back, no two plants looked alike. His personal favorite had been an enormous hand… He had played a lengthy game of chess against himself. He had lost… He had retiled every bathroom in the factory by hand, even adding artistic murals on the walls of his own personal bath. The things he had taught himself to do while alone for so long would make Martha Stewart look like an amateur, and he had had entirely enough of all of it. He had kept himself busy for one purpose and one purpose alone; to keep him from having enough down-time to think about his situation. Had he never wondered why he had trouble sleeping at night, even though he had spent twelve hours on his feet? It wasn't just the uncomfortable, rock hard bed, it was because he had time to think, and thinking inevitably led to depression, which inevitably led to nightmares. That was the real reason he went to Loompa Land. He couldn't sleep anymore and wanted a cure. And he found one all right. The Oompa Loompas kept him busier than he ever could have imagined.

But he still had trouble sleeping. That's why he always worked until he passed out on the fudge room floor. At least until Charlie and his family (gag) came along. After that, he wasn't quite so lonely. He trusted Charlie, he was a marvelous boy. But that was it, he was just a boy. Young boys are inherently trustworthy, as they have not seen enough of life to twist them into untrustworthy, underhanded, thieving men. He didn't actually spend any time of consequence in his own bedroom until he met Veronica. Ahh, here she was, popping up in those rarely acceptable dusty corner-thoughts again! Veronica… but why would meeting her make him able to sleep without disturbance? He trusted her, plain and simple! And now he was back at the beginning of an enormous train of thought, after nearly an hour of thinking it!

And yet that still left the obvious unanswered question; if he trusted her, why couldn't he just let himself go and love her like he knew he should? Was it because he had never squared with his employees' betrayal? And if it was, how could he possibly do anything about that sixteen years after it happened? He sighed. Actually sitting and thinking about things was more work than actually working! Perhaps it was because sixteen years of thoughts had accrued in those back corners of his brain before he allowed himself to sweep them out…

He had given in to the inevitable and actually let his mind wander. He faced the thoughts that he had been afraid to look in the eye for years now. So why didn't he feel any better? What had he accomplished? He still couldn't allow himself to get any closer to Veronica than he had been. And what was that?

He had made the first jump on his own, taking off his gloves. But somehow it didn't seem very important in retrospect. It had been a big step for him then, but they were his hands. And it wasn't as though he never wore gloves anymore, it had just been the one time. After that… He had kissed her because it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. That's what always happened in books… The hero sweeps the heroine off her feet, and nothing's ever the same. Well, that was true, nothing was quite the same after that… But now she was needing things from him that he couldn't give. What was it she said she needed, sitting out in that snowbank so long ago?

"You…" Idiot, she needs you, and that's exactly what you can't give her.

But why? He didn't know how? He just couldn't. It didn't go beyond that. Whether he wanted to or not, he just couldn't give himself… Parts of himself maybe, his attention, even when he thought it better to be working on candy, his wit, to keep her spirits up, but…

It all boiled down to when they were together last. She had needed something of him then. And maybe he did give it to her, but was it enough, what he had done in the great glass elevator? And afterward? It had been so difficult to even make himself relax, to allow her to come closer. To allow her to try. She cared about him. And that was something that he was simply not used to. He was used to caring about things that didn't care back, chocolate, his name, his honor… Not even Charlie or the Oompa Loompas cared back, not really. Charlie was concerned for his well- being, but Charlie was eleven years old. Veronica was his equal, mentally. And she cared about him, not only that he didn't put himself in danger, but that he was happy. How long had it been since anybody cared if he was happy? Ever? She wanted him to be happy, she wanted him to be loved. She wanted to give him everything he had lacked for so long, but he was so wrapped up in telling himself that he didn't need it, that now that he did know he needed it, he couldn't accept it. And he couldn't think of a way to fix that.

"Willy?"

He snapped out of his reverie.

"Now, I'm no candymaking genius, but haven't you given that caramel enough attention?"

He looked down at the big copper kettle. Whatever it was that was inside it definitely wasn't caramel… at least not anymore. He sighed.

"I'll fix it tomorrow." He said, not letting his mood depress his carefree tone.

"Alright. I'll see you in the morning then." Veronica smiled and grabbed for his hand. He closed his eyes briefly as her thin hand slid over his. "You ok?"

"Lovely." Wonka said quietly.

"Good night then."


	29. Chapter 29

As life went on inside the Wonka candy factory, things outside were getting tenser and tenser. The European Health Agency had its hands tied. Despite enormous pressure from Slugworth, they simply could not get someone inside Wonka's factory. At the same time, they were wondering just how long Veronica could possibly stay inside. Sooner or later, the novelty of the giant factory would wear off, and Veronica would start missing her old life and the memory of her mother. And when that day came… He was ready for her. The house was exactly as she had left it, giant chocolate rabbit in the closet and all. Her car was still parked out front, and in it remained everything she could fit from her old life, still waiting to move into her new one. The picture of her mother and Wonka's chocolate rose still sat on her bedside table, collecting dust, and the rumpled sheets on her bed still lay there, half on the floor. There were purple foil chocolate wrappers there at the foot of the bed too. But her old house wasn't nearly as safe and cozy as she would remember it. The trap had been laid, just in case, and this time, Slugworth was prepared to handle Wonka as well. After all, how dare he challenge the status quo? Well, Slugworth would not be made a fool of this time…

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

"Wake up sleepyhead! We have work to do!"

"I want a vacation. I'm calling in sick." Veronica moaned, pulling her pillow over her head.

"Sick? Eww." Wonka shrank away for a moment. "But you aren't sick, silly, and there's work to be done! Now, up and at 'em!" He pulled her pillow off her face and tossed it over his shoulder. Veronica responded by pulling her blankets up around her face. Wonka sighed and for a moment, she thought he was going to give up and go away, but he strode to the end of the bed, seized the sheets, and yanked them clear off, dropping them in a heap at his feet.

"Up!" He said cheerfully. "The quicker you get up, the quicker you'll be done, and then you can go back to sleep!"

"That's a laugh." Veronica mumbled. "You won't let me leave until midnight, no matter when I get up."

"And it hasn't occurred to you that maybe I like you around, and so I keep you there because I can't stand to be without you?"

"Is… is that the reason?"

"No, silly! It's because we're really very busy, now let's go! Up!"

Veronica groaned and reached over the edge of the bed for her blankets, but Wonka smacked her over the hand with his cane and pulled her out of bed, grinning sinisterly. She followed him obediently, resigned to another day of babysitting a boiling cauldron of caramel. The Oompa Loompas giggled behind them as he strode ahead confidently, leaving her trotting along behind. One of these days she was going to just turn around and trot right back to bed… And that day was going to be today. But she had no sooner thought this then Wonka turned around with a funny smile.

"Don't you go getting any ideas in that pretty little noggin of yours about running away on me."

"Wouldn't dream of it."

"Good, 'cause if you do, you'll likely run into some kind of trouble, and I won't be there to save you."

"To say nothing of you not having your loyal apprentice there to do all the work for you."

"Hey, I have to fix all those mistakes you make."

"At least I make mistakes that you can fix. With what I'm teaching you, and by the way, you have class at three, you can't go back and fix your mistakes."

"I don't make mistakes." He replied tartly.

"Ahh, that's right. You're perfect."

"Practically perfect in every way!"

"Practically? What's that? You mean you aren't COMPLETELY perfect?" Veronica grinned smugly.

You have no idea, lady.

"I make errors once in awhile. Hair Toffee, for instance…"

"What? Hair Toffee, a mistake? But that last test subject had a lovely handlebar mustache… and a mullet…" Veronica laughed.

"Please don't remind me…" Wonka turned back around briskly. "Moving on, we have work to do…" And he strode off down the hall, heeled boots clicking in rhythm with his cane. Immediately, Veronica ducked through a random door and disappeared. She would have to find her way back to bed via some other route than the main hall.

No more than five minutes later, she was running, shrieking at the top of her lungs, as an enormous swarm of bees chased her. Wonka appeared out of nowhere at the end of the hallway, grinning superiorly.

"I see you found the honey room…" He called.

"Some help would be nice." Veronica panted.

"Bee nice…" Wonka giggled. "Nope, you get to figure this one out on your own."

"Damn it!" She roared and zoomed past him. The bees pursued her.

Where to go? How do you lose a swarm of bees? She had seen cartoons where the pursued immersed themselves in a body of water, but there were no bodies of water in the factory that she was aware of. There was a river of chocolate, but she dreaded what Wonka would do to her if she jumped into that… Besides, they were so far from paradise, she thought she would collapse from exhaustion long before then. Where was she? Let's see, Pretzel room to the left, that was the Marshmallow fluff room straight ahead… What about the Hall of Holidays? Would the bees leave her alone to tend to fields of flowers? She shot down a long hallway, lungs screaming, legs like lead. Finally, the big round doors held promising labels. There went "Secretary's Appreciation Day" just to her right… There! Straight ahead! She prayed the door wasn't locked. The bees were closing in, buzzing loudly. She dove at the door and flung it open, collapsing on the tiled floor as the cloud of bees passed overhead, landing like locusts on the chocolate roses.

"Neat idea!" Wonka giggled. How had he gotten there so fast? Veronica clambered to her feet. "But how are we gonna get 'em back into the honey room, smartypants?"

And then it hit her… why had she not just turned around and run back to the honey room? She sighed.

"I have no idea. Don't you have some sort of brilliant invention for that?"

"Nope, but I do have this…" And he called the Oompa Loompas, an action that still somewhat surprised Veronica to watch. An Oompa Loompa arrived and, after a series of elaborate gestures, left again. It wasn't long before a small army of the little men, all wearing beekeeping suits, trooped into the Room of Roses and shut the door behind them.

"Now, no more wandering off, little Miss Smartypants." Wonka smiled, eyes twinkling. "You're lucky you just had bees chasing you…"

"What could be worse than bees?" Veronica panted.

"You'd have to get lost pretty good to find out." Wonka said, enigmatically.

"Are you mad at me?"

"Why would I be mad at you?"

"Well… all those kids, they didn't listen to you, and look what happened to them."

"They were completely unharmed."

"Unharmed, my ear!" Veronica said loudly.

"I wasn't mad at them, they had it coming. They did it to themselves. As would I, were I stupid enough to try an unfinished candy, or disturb the squirrels." His eyes seemed slightly darker and harsher. "Or go into the honey room smelling like that flowery shampoo." The look in his eye vanished, and he tapped her on the nose with a grin. "But I really must ask you not to go wandering off like that again. Who knows what surprises you might stumble upon?"

"Yes sir…" She said, mockingly. Seeing the look he gave her for this, she shrank slightly. "I won't…"

"Oh good! Now come on, so much to be done!"


	30. Chapter 30

(A.N. Decided I had to re-post chapter 30. There was more of it left to tell. Thank you for your patience, I know this isn't exactly what you expect when you want updates, but it's a lot more difficult to write in a dorm room than alone. If inspiration hits me, you'll know it. Until then, I wish you all Merlot colored coats and Whipple Scrumptious Fudgemallow Delight filled dreams.)

"Candy, candy, candy, I'm so sick of candy!" Veronica groaned one morning, not long after Wonka had awakened her. "Can't we do something else for a change?"

"Like what, silly? This is a candy factory!"

"Don't you make anything else? Cookies? Chocolate cake? Anything?"

"Well… funny story…" Wonka removed his hat and began spinning it in his hands, not looking at Veronica. "No one here can bake."

"No one. No one here can bake anything? No cookies, no cakes, no pies, no nothing?" Veronica asked incredulously. "But the Oompa Loompas…"

"The Oompa Loompas can't make cake to save their lives! And neither can I. In fact, the only person in this entire factory who can use an oven is Mrs. Bucket! Isn't that neat?"

Veronica burst out laughing. The candymaking equivalent of Santa Claus and his elves, and they couldn't even make cookies?

"Don't laugh, you can't boil water without burning it!"

"But I can melt chocolate now, and make marshmallow fluff and caramel sauce too!" Veronica grinned. "If you could have known my mother, she would have taught you a thing or two about baking!" She grinned.

A brief mental image of Veronica's mother passed through Wonka's mind, but she was so like Veronica he could hardly distinguish between them.

"She didn't teach you anything!" Wonka said cheerily. "But I did!"

"Not to say she didn't try." Veronica said huffily.

"Well, obviously she didn't try hard enough. That pretty little noggin of yours isn't as rock-hard as I thought." He rapped on her skull and she withdrew, scowling at him.

"Ow!"

Wonka giggled at her.

"Hey, buddy, I wouldn't be so nasty or it'll come back and bite you later. Don't forget, you have a lesson today. And, oh, what's this? I seem to remember you saying something about me getting a day off today?" Veronica grinned. "I think your chocolate can live without you for one day. How about we do something fun?"

"Fun? But… I have fun all the time, don't you?"

"If you wanna call it that, sure…" Veronica said sarcastically. "Come on, it's the middle of June! Charlie will be out of school in a matter of days, and we won't get another chance until September…" She grinned.

"But… You scare me when we're alone. And I've had just about enough of these lessons of yours!"

"Hey! Other than the lessons, when we're alone, YOU make all the advances, not me."

"And what would you call what happened in the elevator, smartypants?"

"That doesn't count. I was hysterical. I thought we were going to die."

"And afterwards?"

"…I was still hysterical."

"Were NOT."

"Come on… We're wasting time! Let's go do something FUN! Please, Willy?" She batted her eyelashes and smiled sweetly.

"If you insist…"

"GREAT! Now, what to do… Where haven't I been in this factory yet?"

"The places you aren't allowed to go."

"Poppycock. I'm an adult, I can go where I please."

"If you can find 'em. I'm sure not taking you there, no sir."

"Well then, what do you do for fun?"

"Make chocolate."

"Besides that."

"I don't… Well, sometimes I take the great glass elevator for joyrides, is that ever a rush!" He was on the verge of giggling again, but as he saw the look on Veronica's face, he cringed and looked away. "Hey, I know!" and without explanation, he seized Veronica by the wrist and dragged her from the room.

She soon found herself trudging up an endless looking spiral staircase to who knew where? Wonka was practically sprinting up the stairs, his long legs taking two steps at a time, Veronica barely keeping up. The staircase was very spindly and very unsafe looking, and it wound itself through what Veronica determined to be the oldest part of the factory. The machines that they were now rapidly rising above were silent, ancient, and built for workers far larger than the Oompa Loompas. There were the skeletal remains of huge steel contraptions here, rusted out bodies of the first workhorses to power this factory. Wonka didn't spare them a second glance as he clanked noisily up the wrought-iron stairs. Gradually, after an eternity of climbing, Veronica looked up and saw a tiny light at the end of the path. She assumed it was this that they were climbing toward, but what could be nestled so high up? She panted and crawled up a few more stairs, before collapsing onto one, resting her head on the one above. Wonka kept climbing for a few moments before noticing that she was no longer following him. He turned and looked down at her, then came back and crouched down beside her on the narrow stair, balancing between her and nothingness, for there was no rail on the inside.

"Where are we going?"

"I would have taken the elevator, it's much faster, but you don't seem to like it much." He giggled. "Go figure…"

"It tried to kill me." She huffed.

They stayed there in silence for a few minutes. Then Wonka, sensing a change in her breathing pattern, pulled her back to her feet and on they climbed. It was probably two hours before the small round pinprick light high up in the distance became clear. It was growing ever closer, but it was obscured by a fancy wrought-iron grate and she couldn't see clearly what lay beyond. Still farther along, Veronica noticed that the iron grate was adorned with a complex art deco motif, with "Wonka" inserted everywhere in the pattern.

"You like it? I had to replace the old one about a year back… That one was boring anyway." He smiled slightly over his shoulder and climbed on. Finally, three and a half hours after the journey began, with legs like lead and an aching back, Veronica realized she could go no further without bumping into the grate. There was nothing up here.

"This is your idea of fun?" She asked, panting. Wonka, who showed no signs of fatigue whatsoever, smiled, eyes twinkling.

"You haven't seen the best part yet, silly!" And he placed his purple gloved hands on the grate and gave it an almighty push. It was solid wrought-iron and nearly twice as wide across as Wonka was tall, but it swung out of the way as easily as if it had been made of spun sugar. Wonka ascended the last few stairs and climbed out of the shaft, then pulled Veronica up and out. They were standing on the rim of the enormous central smokestack, nothing to support them, wind whistling around them, staring at the vast horizon. Below, the smaller smokestacks all hissed smoke, swirling around them in misty clouds. The sky was a vivid Caribbean blue, and from here, Veronica felt she could see a good part of the surrounding countryside. There they stood, one hundred stories up, on the white marble rim of the smokestack. Veronica suppressed a gasp. For a moment, she was certain that she would fall, either back into the shaft or out into the open sky, but as she wavered there for a moment, a hand reached out and took her by the elbow, steadying her.

"THIS is my idea of fun." Wonka smiled.

_Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka, the amazing Chocolatier..._

How long they just stood there, with the wind whipping at Veronica's hair, Wonka's coat, neither of them knew. Veronica was so taken with the scenery, she couldn't understand how Wonka didn't spend every waking minute of his life sitting up here. Wonka watched the exhilarated expression on her face. He had seen this view far too many times, he doubted very much that it had changed dramatically. In fact, this was the first place he had ever laid eyes on Charlie Bucket. At the same time a hopeful little boy gazed up at the factory gates, Wonka had been standing on the very pinnacle of his creation, staring down at his heir. He had spent a great deal of time up here, thinking, in the time his factory was besieged by spies, and then afterward, when he was alone. In fact, he could remember the very first time he had ever stood up here, staring at open sky. He was… somewhere in his mid- twenties… nevermind where. This had been amongst the first parts of the factory to be completed, the first place workers ever churned out chocolate, when the demands on the little shop on Cherry Street became too heavy. Looking off to the north, he could see the shop, and Veronica's house too. He had ascended the stairs that time too, the elevator had not even been conceived then. Looking out over the world, he had felt that he owned it all, for everyone was begging for what he gave them. What a price he had paid for that pride. Every time he came here after that first day, it had been to mourn the loss of another secret, or to try and forget another face that had haunted his dreams. All those displaced employees, that was the price of the sin of his pride. Their lives, too, had been dragged down, not just his. But time had passed now, and some of those wounds had healed, and he wasn't the same proud and arrogant young man. And maybe the great gods under the sky would see that now, for he had brought Veronica to share in the view of that great world that he lorded over, and would help him do what he knew he had to do.

Veronica sat down on the edge of the great marble rim, swinging her feet against the sky. She could stay up here forever. The fatigue of their climb was beginning to return and she sighed and leaned against the heavy iron grate, laying her face against the cool metal. The grate was enormous and she felt safe near it. Anywhere else, she was still afraid she might fall, but there, she knew she had enough space to relax. After a long while, Wonka too seated himself on the rim, knees pulled tightly to his chest.

"It's beautiful." Veronica finally said.

"Nothing special." Wonka replied, unconvincingly casual.

"If it's nothing special, why did you drag me up here?"

"I thought you might like it." He smiled. "And you do!"

"Go figure…" Veronica sighed, gazing out over the horizon.

There was another long silence as Veronica let the wind ruffle her hair. Up here, all you could smell was chocolate. It was like heaven on earth to her. At length, she stretched her sore legs and left the safety of the big, iron grate, sitting instead next to Wonka. He watched her, uncertainly for a moment. This was the part where things became most uncomfortable between them, wasn't it? But they didn't. She simply lay her head on his shoulder and smiled.

"Thank you." She whispered.

"For what?" He tried to relax, Veronica had now latched onto his arm and was quite comfortably close, for once.

"For sharing this with me."

"Well, in that case, I should be thanking you." He said, with no pretense of false cheer. The emotion in his voice was, for once, his own. Veronica just smiled.


	31. Chapter 31

Veronica awoke one morning with an unexpectedly uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach. It was Father's Day. Normally, this day did nothing for her, she hadn't had a father. Now that she did, she realized she hardly wanted to spend the day appreciating him. However, there was one thing that might take her mind from her own misery…

"My WHAT? Why on earth would you EVER want to do that?" Wonka looked stricken.

"I thought you were on better terms with your father!"

"Better, not GOOD." Wonka clarified stiffly. "Besides, you're not allowed outside. Can't take a chance on running into your f—ff—yours." He grinned superiorly and awaited her retort.

"We aren't going anywhere near Slugworth's shop, nor my house, nor anywhere else he might be. Besides… we can take the… elevator…" Veronica hated herself for saying this, but she had to get over her fear of it sometime, and besides, she had a better chance of getting out of this place if she just humored Wonka.

"Nope." Wonka said simply. "Elevator's out of commission again. Three Oompa Loompas got stuck in a tunnel between the caramel room and the marshmallow fluff room."

"But we should go see your father. I'm sure he'd be happy to see you."

"Do you know how awkward that would be? We'll be sitting at the dinner table, staring at each other, not saying a word. AND he'll be watching everything we eat and making sure we brush our teeth afterward. Do you really want to put yourself through that? I didn't think so." He said harshly, without waiting for an answer from Veronica.

"Humor him. It's Father's Day. Besides, if you had kids, wouldn't you want them to remember you?"

"Kids, me? Eww…"

Veronica sighed.

"We're going." She said, and seized him by the wrist, dragging him toward the front doors.

"Now wait a minute!" He whimpered desperately. He dug his heels into the tiled floor and snatched his arm back. "What if I don't want to?"

"It's Father's Day, Willy. He's your FATHER. You have to go see him." Veronica grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him on, panting. He was still jamming his heels into the floor, and was now determinedly skidding his cane along the floor too.

"I could say the same to you, little Miss Smartypants, but I don't think you want to spend another month tied up in that nasty, disgusting basement!" He tried one more time to yank his arm free, but this time he overbalanced and went crashing into the wall, dragging Veronica with him.

"Well, that was fun…" Veronica said sarcastically. "Are you going to follow me without complaint now?"

"No." Wonka said stubbornly. His blue velvet eyes flashed mischief. One purple gloved hand rose to brush Veronica's hair out of her face. As it brushed past her cheek, Veronica caught it and held it there for a moment… then leapt to her feet, dragging Wonka with her, striding to the door.

"Veronica!" He cried lamely. It was his last ditch attempt at stalling her, but as he had expected, his cry fell on deaf ears. Out the door they went, and as soon as they hit the warm June air, Wonka immediately assumed a dignified expression… as dignified as he could look, and stopped struggling.

They walked the first few blocks in silence, Wonka shooting furtive glances around him for Slugworth or his cronies. Veronica held her head almost unnaturally high, hoping to give the impression of having no fear. Her gut told her otherwise.

"You just don't want to go because of me." She finally said quietly.

"Poppycock."

"You're afraid he'll judge me… and you for your choice." She smiled supportively. "I can hold my own, thanks."

"I'm not afraid of anything. I just don't want to aggravate an already tense situation." He said simply, not looking at her.

The journey seemed to last forever. Wonka was feeling quite ill as they walked up the grassy plain toward the one lone brownstone. Veronica was nervous now too, but it was more excitement than nerves. She had made it all the way across town without being detected by Slugworth, she was going somewhere new with Wonka, which was always an adventure, and furthermore, she was meeting his father, which most likely meant that this day would be twice as insane as usual. She could sense Wonka's usually brisk pace slow to an agonizing crawl and she dragged him ahead, and she noticed that, though his face was determinedly set, his eyes were flashing levels of fear that she hadn't known he was capable of. At her insistent pace, he was moving ahead, leaning on his cane and bracing his shoulders slightly, as if fighting his own urge to turn tail and run. This urge had somehow become an invisible, physical obstacle, and though he kept pace and followed Veronica, he seemed to be doing it only with great effort. Finally, Veronica laced her hand with his and smiled, and the obstacle he was bracing against all but evaporated. He looked over at her with a grateful smile, and they walked up the steps of the little brownstone together.

"Do I have to do this?" Wonka whispered hoarsely.

"Yes, Willy. He will have seen us walking up. Who else would we be looking for?"

"Fine…" And Wonka raised a gloved hand and knocked on the door.

Dr. Wilbur Wonka, D.D.S. was not used to having guests. Most especially not on Father's Day. Who would be coming to see him on a day like today? His patients knew that he would see no one on Father's Day. It was his one day a year to peruse through all the scrapbooks and albums of his only son's great accomplishments.

It wasn't necessarily that Dr. Wonka missed his son terribly. But he had told him flat out that he would never be a chocolatier. He had hurt him terribly, and had been isolated from him for so long… Dr. Wonka was proud of what his son had become, despite his insistence on a more stable career, a more stable life. The only thing that bothered Dr. Wonka these days about his son was the fact that, in all the years he had been collecting newspaper clippings, he had not once seen any indication that his son might pursue something other than chocolate. He had never been married, he had never even been formally seen out on the town with someone. Dr. Wonka was afraid that his son would end up alone, like he seemed to be nowadays.

So the knock on the door was a shock to the aging dentist. He had a sneaking suspicion of who it might be, judging by the muffled knock. Only someone wearing gloves would produce a knock like that… Dr. Wonka smiled. So maybe his son was making an attempt to rejoin humanity now… He opened the door. What was this?

"Willy! Come in. And who is this?"

"Veronica Lightfoot." Veronica said with a small smile. "I'm a friend of your son."

"Just a friend?" Dr. Wonka looked a little let down.

Veronica elbowed Wonka surreptitiously and he looked up, startled, fumbling with his hat.

"Happy F…F… Hi, Dad." He mumbled.

"I wasn't expecting guests." Dr. Wonka said trivially.

"We have reservations for dinner. We wanted to ask you to join us." Veronica smiled.

"We do?" Wonka looked horrified.

"Yes, Willy, remember?" Veronica prompted.

"Oh. Yeah…" His blue velvet eyes gazed at the polished wood floor, then flitted up and met Veronica's, flashing dark and dangerous for a moment. "Veronica, can I talk to you?" He pulled her aside. "Since when do we have dinner reservations, or did you think of everything, little Miss Smartypants!" He hissed. "You know I don't like…"

"Anything?" Veronica whispered, finishing his sentence. "What will it hurt?" She turned him back around to face his father and he gulped and forced a grin.

Exactly one half hour later, the trio was seated around a table at the fanciest restaurant the little British town could boast. Wonka was twisting his napkin in gloved hands, staring at the pristine white tablecloth. Veronica sipped water nervously, shooting an occasional glance around for a waiter. Dr. Wonka smiled a little unnaturally at the pair, as if to prompt them to act naturally. Unfortunately, this seemed to be as natural as it got…

The candles at the center of the table flickered. The soft clink of silverware and glasses filled the air around them, but Veronica, Wonka and his father still sat in silence. It had long since grown uncomfortable.

"Willy, say something…" Veronica hissed into her water glass. She stepped on his foot, a nasty gleam in her eye. Wonka started and dropped the little sugar packet he had been scrutinizing.

"Did you know that the state flower of Arizona is the…" He began, but Veronica elbowed him in the ribs.

"And no making conversation based on what you're reading off the back of _sugar packets_!" But she was grinning. Wonka sighed hopelessly.

"So… Dr. Wonka… You're a dentist. What's that like? Interesting?" Veronica asked lamely.

"Well… after the golden ticket contest, business increased dramatically. So I suppose I should thank you, Willy…" Dr. Wonka said quietly. Willy, who had resumed reading the backs of the sugar packets and was now stuffing them enthusiastically into his pockets, started.

"What? Oh… yeah." He grinned a little plastically.

Veronica sighed and patted his knee, causing him to leap out of his seat, eyes wide as dinner plates. Dr. Wonka was watching the scene play out somewhat detatchedly. _This_ was his son… But on the other hand, at least he could be grateful that the boy had someone who loved him, despite his… unique qualities. After all, she had accepted his son, pointed, heeled boots, feminine features, and all. And she seemed fairly normal too. He watched her break into a grin as a flustered Willy smoothed the wrinkles in his frock coat, and carefully ensured his hair was in perfect place. Yes, she seemed like a normal, stable girl, if not a little quiet. He liked her.

By the end of dinner, Veronica found herself making lively conversation with Dr. Wonka, though Willy remained largely silent, concentrating first on his salmon, and then on a delicate dessert, eyes barely leaving the table unless to peek shyly over at her. He, more than any of them, seemed conscious of the eyes watching them. They were few, the curious glances of the patrons dining around them, but they were there, and their eyes stabbed into him like little knives. Finally, he stood with great dignity, retrieved his hat from the front desk where he had been instructed to leave it, and jammed it on his head, hiding his eyes in the shadow beneath the brim. Dr. Wonka looked at him, startled, but Veronica just sat quietly, and took his hand when he sat down again, hoping to amend for what she had done, bringing him out like this.


End file.
